The Diary of Miss Lavinia Swire
by Lady Etiquette
Summary: Three weeks before her wedding, Lady Mary stumbles upon Lavinia's diary hidden in Matthew's dressing room, exposing revelations about the relationship between Matthew and Lavinia, and driving Matthew and Mary desparately apart.
1. Chapter 1

The Swire Residence – London, 1916

Matthew sighed in to Lavinia's neck, trying to catch his breath, as her arms caressed his back. The pieces of his olive drab Army uniform were strewn all over the floor, where they lay, and he was dressed in only his trousers, which were around his hips. He pushed himself up on his arms to look down at her. She was lovely. Her clothes had mostly been discarded, her skirt bunched up around her thighs, and her strawberry hair fanned out on to the Persian rug, where they had just made love. She had just met him at the train station only an hour earlier, as he arrived in London on leave for a few days. Upon arriving at her family's home, realizing her father, Reggie, was gone for the afternoon, they hadn't even been able to have a cup of tea before they were pulling each other closer, tearing clothes away, their mouths passionately and deeply kissing.

Matthew was spending so much time at the Western front, where he felt alone, lifeless and combat-weary facing death every day; but knowing that Lavinia was waiting for him, and that she loved him, was comforting. He looked forward to her letters and it was a future to look forward to—something to have in his life after the loss he experienced with Mary nearly three years earlier. Their engagement was something that anchored him during the war, and while he was at the front.

"Matthew," she breathed against his mouth, pulling his thoughts back. "I know we got carried away. But I'm not sorry. I love you and I live for your visits home, my dearest. And since we are engaged…" She kissed him, wrapping her arms around him to pull him closer.

He smiled and kissed her nose. "Lavinia, you don't have to explain anything to me. I was right here the entire time, remember?" He chuckled, nuzzling her. "We just need to be careful." Thank, God, he thought, that he happened to have a French letter tucked in his travel bag.

She purred. "I wonder if I should put this in to the diary that I have started?" Her eyebrows were arched suggestively.

He looked at her sweetly. "You started a special diary?"

"Mmmm, hmm…" she nodded. "I actually started it when we first began courting. And I know that everything has happened rather quickly between us, but it's been cathartic to write my thoughts and feelings, and about the things we share together. It makes me feel close to you, especially while you are away at the war." Her eyes were watering as she spoke, looking up at him.

He regarded her tenderly. "Oh, my darling…I love that you are keeping a diary just for us." He kissed her jaw. "I wish you would share it with me, if you are comfortable doing so?"

"Yes, I'd like that." She traced a finger over one of his lips.

"You can write about our visit to Downton Abbey this coming weekend…for the concert. You will be able to meet my Mother, and my extended family." He nibbled her finger.

"The Earl and Lady Grantham?" her desire was returning, her body churning against him again.

He groaned. God, it had been nearly six months since he had been near a woman, let alone this. "Yes…"

Lavinia kissed him, sliding her tongue around his mouth, "…and Mary and her sisters?"

"Mmmm, hmmm..yes." He was breathing heavy, his body getting hard again. It was all so delicious and erotic. "yes….Mary…._Mary,"_ he breathed in to Lavinia's neck as he slid his hardness back in to her.

* * *

Crawley House – Downton, April 1920

Matthew smiled, standing in the doorway of the main lavatory in the hallway on the second floor, watching Mary as she assessed her surroundings.

She stood with her arms on her hips. "Well, it needs a woman's touch, of course." She was smiling and glancing over at him. "It's very male…the retreat of a bachelor." She sighed, admiring the bathroom appreciatively. "Still, it's amazingly comforting. The dark blue tones and white towels; I rather like it. Truthfully, I'm not sure I want to change too much of it. It is a lovely bathing and dressing area."

"I'm glad to hear that since it has been part of my home for the past eight years." He chuckled. "But, this is your home, now, too…"

"Not quite. The wedding is still a few weeks away." She was flirting with him.

He stepped in to the small bathroom, joining her, sliding his arms around her waist. "I like the idea of a woman's touch." His whispered suggestively, his lips grazing hers.

Mary's hands moved from her hips up around his neck, pulling her closer. She whispered against his soft mouth. "Maybe you could be more specific?"

His tongue caressed her mouth, parting her so he could kiss her more deeply, then tracing along her lower lip. "I like the idea of your touch," he whispered. She moaned quietly as Matthew's mouth began to trail over her jaw. "God, Mary…we have waited so long."

She was breathing as hard as he was. "We don't have to wait, you know…" She was angling her head so his mouth could gain better access to her neck. "The wedding is only a few weeks away now."

He placed wet kisses on her neck and tenderly stroked her ear lobe with his tongue. "Yes…." He nudged her back against one of the sinks, rubbing his front against her. He pulled his head back to look at her. "This weekend the house will be empty." He watched her for her reaction.

Mary sighed, "Yes," she smiled in return, her mouth moving over his, a hint of what was to come if they shared the weekend. "Most definitely yes!"

Matthew chuckled and bent his head to kiss her again, but they were interrupted by the sounds of his Mother's footsteps.

Isobel Crawley appeared in the doorway. As she looked in, Matthew and Mary were standing next to each other, apparently discussing some sort of decorating. "Ah, Matthew, there you are!"

He smiled at her. She could be annoying, but the truth was he adored his parents and felt damned lucky to have been raised by such loving, caring, sensible people. "Hello, Mother." He stretched an arm out, inviting her in.

"Well, I've gotten the last of my things out of the house." She was happy for her son and Mary and her expression showed it.

"Oh, cousin Isobel," Mary said, "Are you sure you don't want to keep a room here? Honestly, I think it would be nice." Mary meant it. She liked Isobel and knew how close Matthew and his mother were.

Isobel rubbed Mary's arm affectionately. "I know you do, and that means the world to me. And I will be visiting now and again, so I left a few things in the guest room downstairs for when I visit."

Matthew wrapped an arm round his mother's back. "I'm glad because I want you to visit. If you stay away too long I'll come and fetch you!" He kissed her cheek and Isobel laughed.

"Oh," she said, holding her hand out, "I found these extra handkerchiefs of Matthew's in the chest of drawers downstairs."

Mary reached forward and took them. "I can put those away for you." She looked at her fiancé. "Where do you keep them?"

Matthew thought for a moment. "In the top drawer of the dresser in my dressing room, off the main bedroom."

She looked at him for a moment. "Do you mind? I mean, I know it's personal…your dresser, that is."

He rubbed her hand. "This is going to be your home, Mary, there are no secrets here."

Smiling at him, Mary nodded and stepped out of the bathroom and down the hallway, toward Matthew's dressing room. Stepping inside the room, she looked around at his personal belongings, noticing the sentimental things he kept. An Oxford cricket bat stood in one corner, and several framed Army regiment photos hung along the wall. There were several large book cases, which held books, personal items and photos, including one of him with his parents, and one of Matthew and Robert in uniform. Mary smiled at it.

Turning to the dresser, she drew open the top drawer and began arranging the stack of clean handkerchiefs with the others she saw in the drawer. As she was rummaging around, her eye caught hold of something. She held the handkerchiefs aside and saw what appeared to be a journal. Mary smiled, intrigued that Matthew had kept one—perhaps something he maintained during the war?

Then again, as she studied its cover, she noted it had a decidedly feminine appearance, bound in soft lavender leather, with the word Diary scripted on the front in gold lettering. Mary's hand reached in and carefully pulled open the cover to see whose diary it was. Inside she read an inscription: "_The Diary of Lavina Swire." _

Mary's eyes blinked. She looked around, behind her, and then back at the diary. Her hand flipped open the first few pages of the book. Scanning over the pages, she noted Matthew's name, and something about a meeting at Reggie Swire's law firm. Her eyes rapidly glanced at the entries, which appeared to mostly be about walks in the park, luncheons and dinner dates.

Mary's fingers opened the book deeper, to a later time frame. As she scanned the book, she noted her name in several entries, and then her eyes were struck by a personal entry…"_Making love with Matthew while he was in London on leave…"_

She stood, stunned. Mary had no idea Matthew and Lavinia's relationship had taken that step. She had wondered, of course, but was never sure. Now she stood realizing for the first time that they had been lovers.

"Mary?" Matthew's voice from the hallway broke the silence.

Mary quickly tucked the diary away, slammed the drawer shut and spun around. "Yes? Just finishing." She stepped out toward the hallway again, finding Matthew and Isobel.

"Find it? The drawer for the handkerchiefs?" His voice was matter of fact and helpful. His face was bright and happy.

"Oh, yes, of course." Mary smoothed the front of her skirt

Isobel looked questioning to them, "how about luncheon? I think Robert and Cora are expecting us this afternoon."

"Yes, yes," Mary breathed out. "I think you're right." She looked at Matthew, thinking about what she had read, that he and Lavinia had shared an intimate relationship. "_Made love"_ the diary entry had stated. She suddenly imagined them in bed, then glanced at the floor to push the image from her thoughts.

"Mary?" Matthew's voice was kind and sweet. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, of course. Why don't we head up to the main house for luncheon?"

As they walked down the staircase, and out the door, Mary was already fighting the urge to contemplate when she could return to take another peek at the diary. She knew she shouldn't, and she had truly liked Livina—she was a lovely young woman who had been supportive and loving to Matthew. But how long had Lavinia and Matthew been lovers? And what had Lavinia really thought of Mary, and a future at Downton? And why did Matthew have such a personal possession of Lavinia's?

Walking back up to the main house, Mary knew she would have to find out. She would have to find a way to read the diary.


	2. Chapter 2

The luncheon table at Downton was festive and busy. Carson was overseeing the menu of cucumber sandwiches, warm cheese soufflé, fresh strawberries, and white wine. Mary and Matthew sat beside each other at the dining room table surrounded by their parents, Lady Edith, Sir Anthony, and Cousin Violet.

Mary kept glancing at Matthew. As she watched him, she pondered what she had seen in Lavinia's diary…."_Making love with Matthew while he was in London on leave."_ The images that swirled around in her head made her heart ache. Not that she hadn't liked Lavinia—because she had, immensely; but having the newly discovered details of Lavinia's and Matthew's intimacy as lovers still stunned Mary. Looking at him now, she noticed his hands and lips and thought about the intimate way they would have caressed and explored Lavinia; a way that he had yet to touch Mary.

She thought back to the day after Matthew returned from the front and the news that his injury had paralyzed him and rendered him incapable of fathering children. Looking back on it, Mary now realized that when she was speaking about it in confidence with Lavinia, who had made the remark that she and Matthew "could never be lovers," the comment was a lie, because, in fact, they already were. Mary exhaled at the thought—of course they were lovers, how ridiculous to think that they weren't. They had been engaged for such a long time and the war raged on. And every time Matthew had returned on leave, so incredibly handsome and dashing in his uniform, it is exactly what Mary would have done as well. What she would have wanted.

"Mary? Are you quite alright?"

Matthew's voice caught Mary off guard, and his hand touched her arm. "What? Oh…" She smiled back at him. "Oh, I'm sorry. I must have been day dreaming."

"Thinking about the wedding?" He cocked his head, looking at her provocatively, raising a brow. "Or, something else?" A secret reference to their conversation about being together at Crawley House over the weekend. His eyes glittered at her.

She laughed, feeling her insides warm and flutter at his suggestion. He loved to have these little conversations with double meanings in front of other people to put her on the spot. "I don't know," she started, matching him at his game, "What else would I be contemplating?"

He nodded in thought. "Plans for the weekend, perhaps?" He took a sip of his wine, watching her from under the rim of the glass.

"Do we have plans this weekend? I forget." She bit in to a sandwich, playfully watching his reaction.

Matthew coughed, choking slightly on his wine, looking at Mary from the corner of his eye. "Um," he dabbed his chin with his napkin. "I could have sworn we had made plans of some sort?"

She smiled at him and their hands reached for each other under the table, clasping.

* * *

Friday afternoon, Mary found her way to Crawley House, entering through the side door near the kitchen. As Matthew had promised, the house was quiet, and empty. Mary knew he would still be at work until after three o'clock. Closing the door behind her, she called out to ensure no one else was there. "Hello? Is anybody here?" She walked down the hallway, toward the entryway and the staircase.

Heading upstairs, she found her way to Matthew's dressing room. Opening the top dresser drawer again, she pulled out Lavinia's diary. She gingerly sat down on the brown leather chair and opened the book.

Mary's eyes saw the entry after Lavinia's first visit to Downton. _"Drove to Downton Abbey for a weekend concert and to meet Matthew's Mother and family. Matthew drove—what a silly driver he is! But we pulled the car over, in a secluded area…and it was delicious. Matthew is such a patient and tender lover. But we take great precaution…not that I would regret finding myself with his child." _

Mary sat back in the chair, taking a breath. It pained her that she and Matthew had never done such things…that she had never thrown caution to the wind. She thought about how lovely it would be to be with Matthew in his car, and impulsively turn down a secluded road, and to… She found that she was breathing heavier, and touched a hand to her hair. Looking back down at the book, she read the rest of the entry. "_Downton is a charming town and the big house is resplendent. I loved Matthew's family. He seems particularly close to Mary. They are distant cousins, but I detect something more…perhaps something passed between them? I asked him about it but he was evasive…I think he cares for her."_

Mary's eyes looked up from the book. She knew, Mary thought. All along, Lavinia knew…not just at the end, but from the beginning. Sitting there and thinking about it, she happened to notice Matthew's commendation for the Distinguished Service Order, the DSO, which was framed and hanging on the wall across the room. It was England's second highest honor for gallantry in battle, besides the Victoria Cross. So much risk at the front…Mary was grateful Matthew had someone in his life during that time, and since it hadn't been her, she was happy it had been Lavinia.

Her eyes began reading again, page after page, each entry revealing more intimate details, and that Lavinia continued to be aware of Matthew and Mary's close, and deepening friendship. An entry in 1918 read, "_I don't think Matthew will ever be entirely mine. Not because of something Mary has done, but because of Matthew's own heart."_

Oh my God, Mary said to herself in the quiet of the room.

"Mary?"

She was startled by Matthew's voice from downstairs. She quickly jumped up, tucking the diary back in the drawer, and slipping it closed. "Up here!" She called back to him.

His footsteps announced his arrival as he entered the dressing room. "Hello, there, stranger." He smiled at her and leaned against the door frame. "How long have you been here?"

"Oh, just a little while. I thought I'd bring a few more things to drop off." She clasped her hands in front of her, suddenly feeling slightly nervous, about secretly reading the diary, and their intent this weekend. She talked to conceal her anxiety. "I was just noticing your DSO here."

His smile changed a little. "Oh?" He crossed to her. "You must not have read it closely enough because that's not mine."

"What?" Mary turned her eyes back to the framed citation.

"It's William's." He slid his hands in his pockets and looked at the citation as well.

"Oh, Matthew, how lovely. I hadn't read it closely enough. I'm so glad you told me." She rubbed his arm.

"William's father received two copies, one would have been William's, so he sent it to me."

They were quiet in the room together for a while. "What did you do with yours?" She asked quietly.

He looked at her, his expression calm and content. "Mine is in the bottom drawer of my desk." He shrugged. "It was an honor, but the real gallantry that day belonged to William."

Mary slid her arm through his and he smiled down at her. She leaned up on her tip toes and kissed the side of his mouth.

He brushed his nose against her cheek in a little Eskimo kiss. "Where would you like to go for dinner?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck, gazing up at him. All she could think about was being with him.

He laughed quietly, "What is it?"

"I'm just happy we are here together." She kissed his lips, and then his chin, and then his jaw.

His hands moved up and around her back, leaning in to her kiss.

"Matthew?"

He was kissing her neck. "Hmm?"

"I need to tell you that…what we talked about doing this weekend. I...I haven't really _done_ this before."

He pulled his head back and looked at her, his eyes warm and affectionate.

"I mean, the experience with Mr. Pamuk, well….I didn't," She was speaking nervously, looking at his necktie now. "That is to say, we didn't…."

"Mary," his voice was calm and sweet. "It's alright." He kissed her lips. Stepping backward, holding her hands, he moved toward the bedroom. "It will be _our_ first time, together."

Mary smiled, lost in his eyes, letting him lead her. She felt the fluttering feeling inside again.


	3. Chapter 3

Following Matthew in to his bedroom, Mary noticed a vase on the vanity, filled with several dozen beautiful pink roses. The vanity was hers and had recently been transplanted to Crawley House. She leaned over in the direction of the roses; her hands still linked with his, and bent her head to smell them. "Oh, Matthew these are glorious flowers." She looked back at him with a stunning smile. "Thank you."

He pulled her toward him and brushed his lips against hers, opening her, taking her mouth in a deep, penetrating kiss. Mary's arms tightened around his neck, pulling her body flush against with his, and she could feel his response to her. "Oh, Matthew," she whispered, opening her mouth to him and gently sucking his tongue.

He moved his head back and forth, changing the penetration of their kiss, causing them to moan in to each others' mouth. He held her face in his hands. "I love you, Mary…and nothing is more important than the trust we have in each other—the trust to share this."

Mary felt her heart clench, knowing she had violated that trust. But she pushed her conscience away, and focused on the feel of his lips and his hands roaming her body. "Yes….trust," she sighed.

Unlike many men, Matthew did not consider Mary's virginity some sort of offering. The thought of causing a woman discomfort in order to experience sexual pleasure actually bothered him to some extent. He knew this first time would be more like crossing a bridge, so they could get to the other side.

He stepped back, leading her toward the large blue velvet overstuffed chair, which sat in the corner. She was looking at him, her eyes sparkling and mesmerized, following him. "Where are we going?"

"Right here," he said gently. He shrugged off his suit jacket, and let it drop to the floor. Stepping back in to her, he kissed her, and his fingers unfastened the buttons at the waist of her skirt, letting it slide down her legs, pooling around her feet, so she was standing in her stockings and blouse.

"Oh, Matthew…" She was breathing heavier. Her hands worked the buttons of his shirt, pushing it open and pulling it out of pants. She kissed his chest, her hands grazing over his torso.

He sat down on the chair and carefully tugged her hand, motioning her to sit on his lap. Mary looked down and saw him smile at her in a sweet and knowing way. She placed one knee on either side of his thighs, and settled down on top of him, feeling his hardness under her bottom. Matthew thoughtfully unbuttoned her blouse, letting it hang open. Leaning forward, he placed warm wet kisses along her collar bone and his hands caressed her rib cage through her camisole.

Mary's hands tunneled through his soft hair as his head moved, kissing her chest and neck. She reached down and rubbed him through his pants. "Yes," he exhaled against her skin, his body moving up against her. She unbuckled his belt and opened his trousers, and he angled hips upward to help her push them open enough so he could free his body for her.

At the feel of their bodies rubbing together and their wet tongues exploring each others' mouth, Mary felt herself becoming soaking wet. She reached for one of Matthew's hands and slowly gestured it toward her center.

His fingertips gingerly rubbed against the satin fabric between her legs, feeling how damp it was, and her body pressed down against his hand. His fingers slipped inside, finding her curls dripping wet. She wanted this…_she wanted him_. "God, Mary," his eyes slid shut as his head bent forward to her neck.

"Yes, Matthew," she whimpered, her hips rocking on his hand, his fingers slipping deeper inside her. One of her hands balanced on his shoulder, and the other reached down to caress him, feeling how hard and ready he was. "Matthew, please help me…"

He looked in to her eyes and held her gaze. Resting one of his hands tenderly on her hip, he gently guided her until her center was just covering the tip of him, "There," he whispered against her lips, "Can you feel that?" His eyes were hooded with desire as he spoke.

She nodded, her hair around her eyes, and sat still. "Yes."

His hand brushed the hair away from her face. "It's alright Mary." He nuzzled her nose.

She nodded and then slowly sank down on to him. Watching his face intently, she smiled as his eyes shut in pleasure from the feel of their bodies joining together. Sinking down over his shaft, she suddenly felt some resistance, and stopped. They looked in to each other's eyes, and he saw her brows wrinkle in concentration as she pushed a little harder. His body was straining at the pressure and feel of her wet core, but he held his hips still to avoid hurting her. Her eyes shut and she was panting, an awkward laugh escaping her. "I'm not very good at this, am I?"

"Shhhh," He kissed her, his tongue sliding over her lips, and his hand moved down between them. His fingers found her sensitive bud, which was enlarged and wet. He caressed it causing her to groan and pant in his mouth, her hips jerking from the movements of his hand.

"Oh, yessss…." She had never felt an ache between her legs like this in her life, as though something were about to burst inside her. Her thoughts fleetingly returned to the diary, and Lavinia's note…"_Matthew is such a patient and tender lover."_

He could feel her release building as her body trembled. He kissed her, continuing to stroke her with his fingers, murmuring against her mouth. "Jesus, Mary, I love being inside of you."

Suddenly, her climax shook her and her body quaked and bucked, and the movements caused her to sink all the way down, taking him in to her as far as he would go. "Aaah, God!" She cried out in exhilaration at the feel of his hardness filling her, trembling from physical pleasure and the feel of joining with him.

Her core was tight and wet, and her movements so intense, it was all too much. It had been so long for Matthew, and the harder he tried to hold back his climax, the more it became uncontrollable. His hands gripped her hips and his body rocked up in to her, his head rolling back on to the chair. His orgasm started in his groin and spread through his body. His breath hitched in his throat and he let out a loud groan that filled the room, his body slightly jerking in to her.

Mary watched his features changing across his face as he came, his lips parted and eyes closed, and his head was back in the chair. She could feel his warm essence deep inside her and she gasped at the sensation of his seed filling her most private place.

He moaned and tightened his arms around her, hugging her to him as his breathing slowed. Mary slumped against him and he clumsily kissed her hair. They lay like that for several moments, and Matthew's hands rubbed circles over her back.

Mary moved, looking down. "Oh, Matthew….oh no, I'm so sorry!"

'What?" His voice was soft and his eyes were still glazed over from sex. He was confused.

She was still looking down between them. "Oh no, no…." She was mumbling, shifting out of the chair to stand. "I am so very embarrassed!"

Glancing down, he saw the blood on his body and on his pants. "Mary, it's alright," He rubbed her arm reassuringly, "it's completely normal for this to happen."

"I know but," she hesitated and looked at him with worried eyes. "Your clothing, oh Matthew…I am so sorry!" She was awkwardly rearranging her clothes, her hands trying to cover herself.

"Mary, darling, please, calm down," he stood and his hand cupped her cheek. "It's fine….this is _supposed_ to happen." He helped her, rubbing a hand over her shoulder.

She looked at him with moist eyes. "I really am very sorry."

He smiled at her. "Don't be." He leaned down and kissed her. Her arms went up around his neck, and he hugged her close. "Come here. I have an idea." He led her by the hand to the lavatory that she had just been assessing the day before. He grinned back at her mischievously.

"What are we doing?" She was feeling better now, only a dull ache at her center, but she felt warm inside.

He led her in to the bathroom. "We're taking a bath." He put the stopper in to the bathtub drain and turned the knobs, and warm water began filling the tub.

"Together? You must be joking?" An astonished look covered Mary's face.

"Why not?" He winked at her, making her giggle again, which gave him relief to see her smile. Glancing over he saw some bubble path powder that Mary must have brought from Downton. He grabbed it, sniffed it suspiciously, and poured a measure in. White, foamy bubbles began to froth and swirl around the bath water.

They stripped their clothes off—an entirely new experience for Mary in front of a man—and climbed in to the large white bathtub. Matthew got in first , sitting down, and held his hand out to Mary. She was standing, her arms crossed on front of her, awkwardly covering herself, but her lips were turned up in to a grin. He wriggled his fingers and she took his hand to balance herself. She stepped in to the tub one leg at a time, lowering herself in to the warm, bubbly water. She leaned back against him and they both released happy groans of contentment at the feel of the warm sudsy water.

He kissed her hairline. "Better?"

"Hmmmm…" she purred against him.

He spoke softly in to her temple, concern in his tone. "Do you have any discomfort at all?" His hands smoothed up and down her arms reassuringly.

"A little…" She turned her face to look at him. "But it's a good discomfort." She kissed his cheek.

He huffed out a laugh, rubbing his head against hers and kissed her. "It gets better, trust me."

_Trust_, Mary thought….her conscience returning as she thought about the diary.


	4. Chapter 4

Mary stood in the lavatory wearing Matthew's bathrobe. None of her personal clothing had been brought to Crawley House, so she had to make do. She rolled the sleeves up her arms and tightened the sash so it fit better, and was towel drying her hair. She rubbed cream on her hands and smiled to herself, secretly astonished at how lovely it had been to take a bath with him. She never thought in a million years she would have done such a thing; it _never_ would have happened with a man like Richard Carlisle. Something like that was incredibly middle class and sweet, she thought—a couple sleeping together in the same bed or sharing a bath. It felt wonderfully earthy. Yet, she loved it…only with Matthew she mused as she finished rubbing the cream in to her hands and clicked the light off.

Walking out of the bathroom in to the hallway, she stopped in front of the open door to his dressing room. She desperately wanted to read the final pages of Lavinia's diary, her selfish insecurities still gnawing at her. Hesitating, she looked down the hall toward the bedroom where she knew Matthew had dropped off for a nap. It would be so easy, she thought, to peek at the diary again…

_Just one more look at what transpired between Lavinia and Matthew_.

But what was more important to her now was what had transpired between her and Matthew just an hour earlier. She sighed at the memory—of giving herself to him. He had been the man she handed her virtue to, and he had tenderly and affectionately loved her in return. An experience she had wanted but feared most of her life turned out to be one of the sweetest and most loving. As curious as she had been about Lavinia's diary and the secrets it contained, her insecurities had been replaced by guilt over betraying Matthew's trust.

She had violated his faith in her and their relationship. She paused and recalled what he had said to her before they had been together… "Nothing is more important than the trust we have in each other." She had almost lost him once by withholding the truth about the incident with Mr. Pamuk. Matthew was right, she knew, and she owed him the respect of confessing what she had done.

Instead of tip-toeing in to the dressing room, she padded toward Matthew's bedroom. The room was dimly lit by a small lamp in a far corner. Upon entering it, she immediately caught sight of him on the bed. He was asleep, naked beneath the covers, with only a sheet pulled up as far as his hips, a dusting of dark blond hair visible on his lower abdomen. She gently sat down on the bed next to him, and quietly watched him. His sleeping face was turned toward her, his features calm and at rest as he breathed deeply. Mary remembered when she had assisted him after he returned from the front with his injury and she discovered—to her delight—that his abdomen was ticklish. Her lips turning up in to a crescent smile as she tentatively rubbed two fingers on his tummy.

Matthew stirred, huffing out an "mmmmm" sound, awaking groggily as his hand playfully grabbed hers at the wrist. "You _know_ I am ticklish there," he mumbled in mock accusation.

Mary changed her tickling motions to soothing caresses across his abdomen, the palm of her hand warmly rubbing across his midsection. "Yes and I am so glad you can feel it better now."

He hummed, stretching slightly, peeking at her through drowsy eyes. He felt his body tingle and stir at her touch. His hand reached up and his fingers touched her cheek. "I think my robe looks deliciously better with you in it rather than me." A crooked smile played over his face.

"That's funny," she retorted, "I was just thinking how delicious you look _not wearing_ it…or anything else, for that matter." Mary raised a coy brow.

They shared an amused laugh and then grew quiet, gazing in to each other's eyes. He loved that they were lovers now…able to have these secret moments. His hand brushed through her hair and he spoke in a whisper, a hint of concern in his tone. "Regrets?" He hoped not and waited for her answer, holding his breath.

Mary gave him a warm smile, shaking her head. "Only that perhaps our being together wasn't exactly…well perhaps it wasn't entirely _spectacular_ for you."

He adjusted his head on the pillow to look at her better and his brows knitted in to a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, just…you know." She was looking downward, apparently analyzing his chest.

Matthew watched her face intently, knowing she felt self conscious and awkward. So did he. But he needed her to talk to him. "Tell me," he implored her, his hands smoothing up and down her arms reassuringly.

"Oh, it's nothing." She sighed feeling silly.

He wasn't going to let her off that easy. "Tell me, please."

Mary still kept her eyes cast down, somewhat embarrassed. "I just wanted you to feel…" she paused, tipping her head, "…_fireworks." _She breathed it out and looked at him bashfully from under her lashes.

His face softened. "Ah," he whispered, turning his gaze toward the ceiling momentarily and then back at her. "And what makes you think I didn't feel any fireworks?" His fingers toyed with strands of her silken hair.

She shrugged. "I don't know…I suppose because in books and stories the gentleman is always in such rapture." She laughed at her own naiveté and how ridiculous she knew she sounded."I'm sorry, Matthew, this all sounds so silly."

"And you don't think I felt that way?" His voice was a sweet and tender whisper.

For that she did not really have an answer, only the gaze of her eyes.

"Mary, I have wanted to be with you for eight years." He let out a laugh. "I proposed to you—_twice_—at intervals six years apart." He smiled up at her, his voice comforting. "And when I came home from the war…_I came home_ _to you_." His hand touched her cheek and his thumb grazed her lips. "Being with you for the first time—for your first time—is something I will always cherish. I am profoundly honored and enamored that you chose me after all." His eyes held hers steadfastly and he leaned up and kissed her with a smile, whispering against her lips. "And smoldering embers burn hotter and longer than blazing fireworks."

She chuckled and kissed him back, her arms going around him. She felt loved and cared for, and her insecurities seemed to melt away and disappear entirely. He pulled her down on top of him, hugging her back, their foreheads touching.

She needed to tell him the truth. He heart was bursting with love and regret, not regret at their intimacy, but at sneaking behind him to read the diary—his private memento of Lavina's. _What had she been thinking?..._ she thought, bullying herself. "Oh, Matthew I must tell you something."

"What?" His hands smoothed up and down her back, then he gently rolled them over until she was lying down and he was looking down at her. His fingers pulled at the knot of the sash on his robe, pulling it open, revealing Mary's warm body. He bent his head down to kiss her, breathing her in. She smelled like lemon and lavender soap, and he was growing intensely aroused again.

"Well, it's just that…" She continued resolutely, but Matthew's lips were grazing her cheek. How did he maneuver her underneath him so quickly, she thought? "…well, I've done something I must confess."

Matthew was leaning over her, his warm wet mouth kissing and tenderly licking her throat as Mary angled her head so he could explore more of her neck. He moaned softly, "You like that don't you?" His question was rhetorical, and Mary's head went back and she quietly purred as his mouth moved down over her chest.

"Yes…,"she breathed out, her eyes closed as her head rolled in the pillow. "But…I must tell you something."

His tongue had found one of her nipples, teasing it and laving it. His hand was stroking over her tummy, warming her through to her core. She felt herself becoming wet again as one of his legs slid between her thighs, gently spreading her. The warmth of his body felt intoxicating, and the feel of him almost covering her body with his was agonizingly erotic…_God _she had wanted him like this for as long as she could remember. On top of her…wanting to take her.

Matthew heard Mary talking and muttering something about a confession. But his mind was distracted by her undressed body in his arms and the feel of her wet center rubbing against his thigh. He rolled over one of her thighs, his hard arousal brushing against her. He moaned as he sucked one of her breasts, feeling her fingers sliding through his hair. Mary's hand slipped down between them and stroked him, and he groaned, "Oh, God, Mary…" he was panting and murmuring against her skin, "can your confession wait just a little while, darling?"

She arched her back instinctively and he pulled his head up to look at her. His eyes were dark and sensuous and sparkling at her in the dim lighting, but his voice was sincere. "Is it alright?" His eyes searched her. "That is, if you are uncomfortable in any way, we shouldn't….we don't have to…"

Mary looked up at him and was struck by the love in his eyes and voice. "What I have to say can wait," she smiled as she whispered up at him. "But I don't think we should wait another second to make love again."

He smiled and grazed his lips against hers, and their tongues touched and swirled around each other. Mary whimpered in to his mouth, parting her lips. Matthew groaned as his tongue slid deeply in to her mouth. Mary wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. He had moved on top of her and his body covered hers. Her legs reflexively opened to him and Matthew's hips rolled against her, his rigid shaft rubbing between them, becoming slick from her essence. Mary reached down between them and helped his body find her. Matthew's eyes looked at her with some surprise, prompting a smile from her in return. Bracing himself on his arms, he carefully, slowly began to enter her. He stopped, looking at her tentatively. "…alright?"

She nodded at his question and her eyes held his at the sensation of his desire filling her. They stared in to each other as he pushed in until he could go no further; and both of them exhaled. Matthew rested his forehead against Mary's.

"I can feel you right here," Mary whispered, rubbing a finger over her abdomen.

His eyes slipped shut. He began to move—and then suddenly stopped. His eyes opened again. "Mary…"

"Yes..?"

"We never spoke of….precautions or any…"

She cut his sentence off by leaning up to his mouth and kissing him. "If you think we should, of course we should."

He looked down in to her eyes. "No…I don't. Unless you do…"

A smile slowly moved across her face and she rolled her hips up in to him, moaning at the sensation of his body rubbing inside of her.

Matthew's hips moved against her motion, pulling a groan from his throat, and his eyes shut again. "Oh, God…" His hips began gently rocking in to her, their bodies seeming to fit perfectly together. "Nothing between us…nothing dividing us…"

Mary arched her back to feel more of him, as sighs escaped her lips. Her hands reach up to grip his upper arms and leverage herself. She was deliriously aroused, yet felt somewhat awkward never having made love with him like this before.

Matthew's hips moved slightly faster, finding a slow but wonderfully penetrating pace. He was looking down in to Mary's face, seeing a combination of desire and perplexed wondering. He reached down and gently put his hand under one of her knees, guiding her leg up around his hip. "Is that alright?"

"Yes," she was breathing faster and lifted her other leg around him. The change in their position caused the angle of his penetration to slide deeper in to her. Mary exhaled a loud grunt at the sensation, "Uuuuugh!" Her eyes shut.

Matthew extended one of his arms to brace himself, leaning upward, his hips thrusting slightly harder. His body was on fire, he was trembling as he could feel the edge of his climax already starting in his sac. He wanted desperately to pound in to her, but his eyes were locked on Mary's expression, careful to ensure he was not hurting her.

Mary looked up in to his eyes. His beautiful eyes were dark, midnight blue, and his hair was tousled. The feel of his body inside of her, stretching her, was pushing her to the precipice. She wanted him to come apart….to lose control, overwhelmed by his orgasm. _Fireworks_. "Harder…" she panted up in to his mouth.

He blinked not sure he heard her correctly. "Are you sure?"

She smiled and tightened her legs around him. "Yes…._Please_."

He kissed her and leaned further up on his knees. He began to thrust harder, her body writhing beneath him.

"Yes, Matthew, yessss…" Her fingers clawed at his back.

He clenched his jaw, wanting to delay his own pleasure until Mary had achieved hers, but his control was slipping away as his body drove in to her sopping wet core over and over again. "Oh, God, it feels so good…" His eyes closed and a sheen of perspiration covered his face and neck.

"Oh, my darling….yes, more…"

He was panting and plunging himself in to her. His head dropped down, his mouth near her ear. "I love you, Mary…."

His sweet sentiment and the feel of his hot breath on her ear triggered her release. Suddenly, Mary's body went rigid, and she cried out, her body shuddering with tremors and her cries of ecstasy filled the room.

Matthew loved the sounds she made in her release. Watching her come, and feeling her center spasm around his shaft, he was unable to hold back the tidal wave of his own orgasm. He sobbed in release as his semen pulsed from his body deep inside her. They both gasped, pleasure rocketing through their bodies, until they were left heaving and panting, his body slumping down on top of her.

They lay together catching their breath. Mary's hand rubbed his back and she felt Matthew's lips caress her cheek, and his warm life inside of her. She whispered, "I love you so much." She wanted to tell him the truth about the diary, but he had slid off to her side, his arms around her, and she knew he was drifting off again. It was the last thing she recollected as she curled in to him, pulled under by sleep.

"Matthew, there's something I need to tell you…or rather, that I want to tell you."

"Yes?" His lips were grazing her jaw and moving down her throat.

Mary's hand petted his hair, trying to focus but her attention was becoming distracted by the deliriously incredible feel of his tongue.

His hand reached behind her neck and pulled her back down with him in a long, sleepy kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

Matthew and Mary strolled along the extensive drive up to the main entrance of Downton Abbey, as he escorted her home. Down the road, the big house stood majestically in the moonlight, its nighttime lights flickering from its windows and exterior, as though it were dressed for the evening. Even though he had visited it hundreds of times, Matthew was always struck by its stately splendor.

He was dressed in dark trousers and a jacket, with a white shirt. It was a warm spring evening so he decided at this hour he could forego a necktie. Mary walked beside him, dressed in her blue calf length skirt and white blouse from earlier in the day, her arms swaying at her sides. Their footsteps crunched in the gravel as they walked and he reached his hand over to hers and slid their fingers together. He knew Mary was not entirely comfortable with public displays of affection, but at ten o'clock at night, along a quiet road, she smiled back at him and eagerly accepted his hand, squeezing it affectionately.

Mary giggled. "You are flirting, Matthew!"

"What if I am? Isn't a gentleman supposed to flirt with his fiancée?" He smiled brightly at her in the moonlight.

Mary walked more closely to his side, so happy to be with him. "Aren't we a little old for flirting?"

"We will _never_ be too old for flirting! Besides, how can you say that after….well, after we…?" He gave her a knowing look from the corner of his eye.

Mary blushed and glanced at the ground as they walked. The big house was growing larger in the distance as they approached it, and she knew she needed to confess to Matthew about reading Lavinia's diary. Her joy rapidly faded at the thought.

He saw her face becoming serious. "You were trying to tell me something earlier." He gently squeezed her hand. "What is it?"

Mary let out a sigh and a reluctant smile. The memory of their intimacy warmed her, and now she began to feel slightly sick to her stomach knowing what she had to tell Matthew.

"Please, Mary, what is it?" His voice was kind and warm.

"Oh, Matthew I've committed a terrible lapse in judgment." Her face now looked crestfallen.

A smile still played at the corners of his mouth. "Surely, it cannot be as bad as all that?"

"I'm afraid that it is." With that, she stopped walking and stood, their hands still connected, stopping him as well.

Matthew studied her expression and suddenly felt a familiar feeling—just like the night she told him the story of Mr. Pamuk. "Mary? What is it?"

She had no idea how to say it or where to begin, so decided it would be best to state it as a fact. "I saw the diary in your dresser….Lavinia's diary." She stopped and gauged the look on his face before proceeding.

Matthew blinked his eyes, his head tilting to one side, trying to decipher what she had said. "Oh." What was she confessing to exactly?

She shook her head in frustration. "Oh, Matthew, I read it." Her large brown eyes implored him to understand.

He listened as she spoke and now he began to process the words in his head. "You read Lavina's diary? The one in my dressing room?" He paused, shifting on his feet, thinking. "You mean, you were in the dresser and accidentally opened it and saw a page?" His sweet face was still looking for innocence in her eyes.

Mary straightened her shoulders, facing her mistake head on. "No. I mean I read it."

Their hands dropped to their sides, no longer connecting them. Matthew was now realizing what she was confessing and his voice grew deep and serious. "Are you saying that you went behind my back, secretly entering my dressing room and read Lavinia's entire diary?" He sounded stunned and absentmindedly took a step backward, away from her.

Mary nodded, nervously clasping her hands together in front of her. "Yes," she whispered quietly in the night air that suddenly felt cool.

"Dear, God, Mary," he ran a hand through his hair, slipping the other hand in to his pants pocket and turned to look at a tree off in the field, thinking to himself. His back was to her as he spoke. "That diary is a private collection of thoughts and…and," he stuttered, his mind searching for the right words, "extremely intimate memories between myself and Lavinia!"

"I know, and I am so terribly sorry, Matthew."

"_Sorry_?" He turned on her with a stone cold expression. "That's all you can say to me, is that you are _sorry_?" His lips pressed together, forming a thin, rigid line, and he breathed threw his nose. "How dare you!"

Mary flinched and was shocked to hear the words fly from his mouth toward her so angrily. "Matthew, please, I am so very truly sorry!"

"What possessed you to do such a vile thing?" Both of his hands were on his hips, his posture firm and defensive, as he continued his cross examination.

"I was putting away the handkerchiefs that your Mother had found the other day, and I...I just happen to see it." Mary was breathing quickly, desperately trying to explain.

"And you just presumed you could open it and read such a private memoir behind my back? Did it not occur to you that the word _diary_ engraved across the cover would, for decent proper people, indicate that it was a private possession?"

"Yes, yes, of course, but my own stupid insecurities…"

"Oh, please, _spare_ me about your insecurities!" His chest was heaving with anger and he pointed his finger at her as he spoke. "You read that diary and violated my trust simply because you are a selfish, childish woman, Mary!" He sniffed the air, trying to gather himself, but remained adversarial. He huffed out a sarcastic laugh. "And all this time, the years during the war, and during my recovery, as we grew closer, I thought you had changed from my early days here!" He took a breath. "I thought you were my friend!"

Mary began to cry. "I was…I am! You must believe me!"

"Believe you?" He laughed again. "How could I ever believe you again? You've stolen my trust from me!" He paced and then faced her. "Lavinia was my fiancé for three years, Mary. Did it not occur to you that having been such, I would have a keepsake of hers that was intended to remain private to the memory of my time with her?" He pressed his hand across his brow. "Dear God, when I think of the personal things Lavinia wrote about…" He sighed as though in angry defeat.

Large, thick crocodile tears trickled down Mary's cheeks as she rang her hands together. "Oh, Matthew, I am so very sorry…I know this was a terrible error in my judgment. I am so truly very sorry, my dear…"

"Don't call me that." He walked up to her so he was standing directly on front of her.

Her mind raced trying to find the words that would plead her case more effectively. Her heart was pounding in her chest. "You are right—I never should have opened such a private, personal item of yours. I should have honored your privacy and Lavinia's memory, and instead I betrayed it." She paused to catch her breath, and she felt she might hyperventilate. "Is there nothing I can say to make you believe how deeply remorseful I am?"

Matthew held her stare. "I told you once that I could never despise you."

Mary's wet eyes flooded with tears as she looked at him, her lips trembling. She was losing him…she was losing him all over again.

"Clearly, I spoke too soon." His eyes were dark and angry.

And with that, Matthew turned and began walking back in the direction of Crawley House, leaving Mary alone in the dark.


	6. Chapter 6

Matthew stood in front of the lavatory sink, with a towel wrapped around his hips, trying to shave. He squinted as the morning sunlight reflected off the mirror and in to his bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept at all the night before after the argument with Mary.

Thinking about it all again made his hand tremble and the sharp razor sliced in to his cheek. "Damn!" He uttered to himself in the silence of the empty house. He tore off a piece of toilet tissue and stuck a small piece on to the tiny nick. He swished the razor in the warm water in the sink. As he rinsed it off he thought about the night before and the terrible things he had said to Mary, making his heart ache. He had flown off the handle and he knew it. He lifted the razor out of the water, shook the excess water from it, and tried to shave again.

As he was pulling the razor across his chin the door bell suddenly rang, piercing his concentration and he cut himself again. "God… bloody hell!" It was Saturday and Mosely was taking the weekend off, part of Matthew and Mary's plan to spend time alone together in the house over the weekend. He laughed aloud sarcastically at the thought and how differently things had turned out. He reached over behind the lavatory door and grabbed his dressing gown. Slipping it on, he noticed his arms sticking out and that the sleeves were rolled up. He sighed remembering that Mary had worn it after their bath together. He touched a finger to the sleeve recalling how sweet and lovely she had looked wearing it. He turned his nose to the shawl collar and he could still detect the scent of lemon and lavender. His heart ached at the memory of their argument and how mad he had gotten with her.

The door bell rang again, cutting in to his thoughts. He tied the belt of the robe and padded downstairs, rolling the sleeves back down to their normal length, and walked in to the foyer. When he opened the door, he was not entirely surprised to see who it was, but he was taken aback.

"Robert!" Matthew pulled his robe tighter around him.

Robert Crawley stood on the front step, fully dressed in a suit and necktie. "Good morning, Matthew." His voice sounded pleasant but somewhat concerned. "May I come in?"

"Yes, of course, please forgive me for not inviting you in straight away." He stepped aside as Robert entered the house.

"I'm sorry to ring so early on a Saturday, but I felt we must talk."

Matthew felt slightly nauseated. And seeing Robert already in a suit, he tugged the collar of his robe up so he appeared more dressed than he really was. "Not at all—I'm glad you're here." Matthew led them to the sitting room, which was already sunny and bright and awake for the day. "Can I get you like some tea?"

"No, thank you." Robert exhaled, glancing down at the floor. "I supposed I should cut to the chase. Mary was terribly upset last night when she arrived home. She was distraught."

Matthew slid his hands in to the pockets of his robe. "Yes, I know. And I'm afraid it was my doing." His eyes dropped to the floor. He loved Robert like a father and hated the idea of somehow disappointing him, and, more importantly, causing him to worry about Mary because of something he had done. "We had a fight."

Robert's eyes were filled with despair. "Over what, may ask?" He sat down and waited for a response.

Matthew paused, gauging Robert's expression. "I have the diary that Lavinia kept during the years we were together and engaged." He took a breath. "Mary accidentally discovered it and read it." He paused watching Robert's reaction.

"I see," Robert said, still sitting quietly. "And would I be correct in presuming the diary contains entries of a personal nature?"

"Yes, it does. And I responded…well, rather poorly I'm afraid. I said some ghastly things to Mary in the heat of the moment." Matthew rubbed his red eyes detesting the memory.

"And what did Mary say in all this?"

Matthew exhaled. "She told me she was sorry. That she was truly sorry and remorseful." His eyes closed reliving the memory. "But my anger got the better of me and I didn't accept her apology." His voice had become a whisper.

As Robert regarded Matthew he suddenly noticed the younger man's bloodshot eyes, the shaving cuts with toilet tissue stuck to his face, and overall state of despair. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

"Not much." Matthew walked over to the chair beside Robert and slumped down in to it. "All I could think about was Mary and how much I wanted to see her as soon as possible this morning so I can explain myself and ask for her forgiveness."

Robert sat back in his chair looking at Matthew. "Well, I'm afraid that won't be possible."

Matthew's tired eyes looked up. "What? Why not?"

"Because when I came downstairs this morning, I discovered that my daughter had left."

Matthew froze. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that she packed several bags and departed." Robert reached in to his jacket pocket. "And this morning I found this note at my place setting on the dining room table." He handed it to Matthew.

Matthew opened the envelope in haste, pulling out a letter, and his eyes began scanning it. "Oh, God…"

"Yes, and she also left this." Reaching in to his pocket again, Robert pulled out a small black velvet box and set it down on the table between him and Matthew.

Matthew looked at the box without opening it. "Her engagement ring." His eyes shot back over to Robert. "Where did she go? I must find her Robert."

Robert took a long look at Matthew. "I'm not sure that is such a good idea right now."

"But I must speak to her."

"From what you say, and from the tone of Mary's note, clearly you have already said quite enough."

Matthew felt his world falling apart at the seams. He drove Mary away and now Robert felt the need to protect her from him. His nausea was becoming worse by the moment.

Robert stood, his form suddenly seamed to fill the room. "I should horse whip both of you." He sighed, sounding vexed. "First Mary, for reading the damned thing without so much as a word to you; and then you for an overreaction of epic proportions! And as much as I love you as my own son, so help me God if anything happens to her because of something you said, I will have you gutted and quartered!"

Mathew immediately stood up. "Robert, please believe me when I say how terribly sorry I am and that I will do whatever it takes to make this right with Mary. You have my word!"

"_I _am not the one who requires your word!" His tone and his expression were severe.

Matthew felt bile in his throat.

Robert took in a deep breath. "Matthew," he reached a hand out to pat Matthew's shoulder, "let her take this time, and while she is away perhaps you can write to her and convey your apology in a letter? And I'll let her know that we spoke as well." He patted Matthew's shoulder affectionately. "Besides, you look like hell, my lad, and I want what's best for you as well, and right now that would appear to be some rest." The faintest beginnings of a smile now appeared across the Earl's face. "Write to her, and get some rest, and then we'll see how everything goes, alright?"

Matthew nodded appreciatively. "Yes, alright. Thank you."

They walked together toward the front door again. "I remember when Cora and I were first married we had a hell of a fight." Robert exhaled at the thought of it, glancing over at Matthew as they walked out. "I said something dreadful to her, and she left."

Matthew stopped. "May I ask what you said?"

Robert contemplated telling him but decided against it. "It doesn't matter; but thank God she forgave me for it."

"What did you do to make everything right?"

Robert thought as he stood in the doorway. "I respected her."

.

,


	7. Chapter 7

Mayfair, London – Two weeks Later

Mary walked through the park leisurely, appreciating the early afternoon sunshine. She wore a white cotton afternoon dress and a hat, and was thankful that shorter, calf length skirts were considered appropriate as they were so much more comfortable in May weather. She liked to watch the different kinds of people in the park, admiring the dresses and outfits on other ladies, as well as the gentlemen and their attire. A small cluster of children were playing with a puppy, which pulled at her heart-most women of her age already had families, yet she did not. A couple strolled in front of her, holding hands. She glanced at them discretely, thinking about Matthew and how he had held her hand on that night walking home, sweetly squeezing her hand affectionately until the dreadful fight occurred. She closed her eyes at the thought of their argument, to push it out of her head.

She was not entirely surprised that Matthew had reacted in such dramatic fashion when she confessed to reading Lavinia's diary. This was the same man who had remarked to her, following Lavinia's funeral, that they "were cursed." He was quite proficient at cutting his own nose off to spite his face. So his anger had not been entirely astonishing, but his implication that he possibly despised her was. She felt a stab of pain rumble through her heart again at his harsh, parting words.

After she returned home following their horrible fight, she had been unable to sleep, tossing and turning. As her mind raced, it occurred to her that Aunt Rosamund was still on the continent and her townhouse in Mayfair would be private and free for her use. She needed to get away to think things through, and to reflect on her recent decisions and choices, without having to discuss it all with her parents; or with Matthew, for that matter. So, unable to sleep, she had packed several bags and left a note for her pa-pa with her intended whereabouts at Aunt Rosamund's along with her engagement ring, and caught the early morning train from Downton to London.

Within two days she received the first letter from Matthew. It had been beautifully written, explaining his embarrassment at the detail in Lavinia's diary, and an apology with his profound regret at his actions and comments. And then, two days after that, she received another letter, asking for her permission for him to contact her so he could offer his apology in person. She had not responded.

By the following weekend, she received a third letter and a florist box containing two dozen long stem pale yellow roses, which she had put in a lovely crystal vase and placed on the vanity of her room. Their romantic alluring scent made her bedroom fragrant, and she admired them as she readied for bed in the evening and dressed for the day each morning, thinking of Matthew.

Their wedding date was fast approaching. Due to the Pamuk scandal and Bates' trial, which both had made the recent papers, the wedding was not planned as a huge lavish affair for hundreds of guests. Instead, they planned smaller, elegant nuptials at the church in Downton with eighty or so close family and friends, to be followed by a reception luncheon at the main house. Truth be told, both Mary and Matthew preferred the notion of a more intimate, but none the less beautiful, wedding.

As another week passed, three more letters from Matthew had been received, along with a large floral arrangement of lavender lilacs and orchids. Robert had also called her, asking her to return home, and to discuss moving the wedding date to June, which Mary agreed to. When she left her ring behind she hadn't written that she was calling off their engagement; she felt the ball was in Matthew's court—he had been the one to fly off the handle. Moving the wedding date by a few weeks was fine, so Robert arranged for the new date by communicating to guests via courier that the groom required unforeseen assistance for a war injury, which was perfectly plausible and respectable. The new date was June 20th.

Mary strolled from the park, up the beautifully manicured street, back to Aunt Rosamund's house. As she walked, she inspected all of the expansive white brick and marble townhomes and lovely window boxes. The neighborhood in Mayfair was quiet, with only the occasional strolling resident or constable. She had welcomed the escape from Downton and the drama that she now felt both she and Matthew had been guilty of bringing upon themselves. She sighed, thinking about how much she wished she hadn't read the stupid diary, and how terrible she felt Matthew had behaved.

She walked up the front steps to Aunt Rosamund's, and slipped her hat off as she walked through the door. The foyer was nice and cool and the splendid lilac floral arrangement from Matthew sat on the large table in its center.

Rosamund's maid, Clara, was waiting to take Mary's hat and gloves. "How was your walk, my lady?"

Mary smiled. "Quite nice, thank you. The park was so lovely today."

"Did it help clear your head for a new start?"

Mary paused and thought. "As a matter of fact, I think it did, thank you."

Clara leaned in closer, lowering her voice. "I am so glad to hear that, my lady, because you have a visitor waiting for you in the sitting room.

Mary froze. "Oh?" She had an idea of who it was, but asked anyway. "Who is it?"

Clara whispered. "It's Mr. Crawley, ma'am."

* * *

Before Mary entered the sitting room, she peered in, through the door jam, and saw Matthew. He was dressed formally in a dark suit and necktie, holding his hat in his hands. Clara said she had intentionally not taken it, in case Mary did not want Mr. Crawley to remain long. He appeared to be admiring an oil painting of Rosamund and Robert when they were young children, but Mary noticed how his eyes kept looking down at his tie, which he fidgeted with, tightening the knot with his right hand. He then reached up and touched his hair, ensuring it was in place. He was clearly nervous.

Mary took a breath, stood up straighter, and opened the door and quietly entered the room. Matthew turned to greet her, straightening his posture, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Hello," he said softly. His hands began fidgeting with his hat again and he pressed his lips together, the way he did when he was awkward.

Mary stopped and stood, clasping her hands in front of her. "Hello." As she regarded him, she noticed several small shaving nicks on his cheeks and a slight razor burn just above his collar. Mary also noticed dark circles under his eyes, which were somewhat bloodshot. Even though his suit was impeccable, Matthew physically looked exhausted. Good, she thought, taking some pleasure in his discomfort; still, she couldn't help but feel relieved to see him again. "Did you take the train?"

"No, I drove the motor." He regarded her seriously. "Did you receive my letters?" His eyes were filled with pain and insecurity.

Mary felt calm and collected, but heartbroken. "Yes, I did. Thank you." Her tone was soft but cool and distant. "And the flowers, as well….they are quite lovely and it was very thoughtful of you."

Matthew nodded and pressed his lips together again. "Mary, I know I've come uninvited, and if you ask me to leave I will most certainly understand it and will do so straight away. But I had to come and see you and extend my apology in person."

She stood quietly, not saying anything.

Matthew waited for her to say something, thinking she might actually throw him out, but when she didn't, he decided it was safe to continue. "I know my behavior was completely unforgiveable, so I won't insult you by asking you to consider doing so." His fingers tightened their grip on the brim of his hat, crunching it. "I just wanted to explain that….well, Lavinia's diary has such incredibly private details in it. I know these are more modern times, and the war changed many things, but I still felt embarrassed and stunned that you had seen it." He paused and took a deep breath. "The truth is I stored that keepsake in a location which anyone could have come upon. As my fiancé and my wife, of course you are completely free to look at any of my personal belongings. Quite frankly, since you were moving in to the house, I should have told you about it and showed it to you in the first place." He rubbed his fingers across his brow. "Instead, my conduct was contemptible." He glanced at the floor, looking and feeling defeated.

Mary remained silent for a long time, digesting his statement. "Well," she finally said, "Instead of reading it behind your back, I should have asked you about it."

Matthew looked up at her, slightly hopeful that she was speaking to him. "I never should have behaved so defensively." He let out a long breath. "Mary, I am so deeply sorry. My words were offensive and abusive, and I would never presume to ask you for your forgiveness. But I wanted the opportunity to convey my sincerest apology to you in person for dishonoring you with such reprehensible behavior." He looked directly in to her eyes. "I am truly sorry for my conduct and having hurt you and I hope you will accept my sincerest apology."

Mary thoughtfully regarded him for several moments. She could tell he was serious and spoke from the heart, which touched her. Still, she couldn't help but feel apprehensive. "I appreciate you coming in to London, Matthew. Thank you." She paused and let the silence fall between them. "And I will consider your apology."

He gingerly took a step toward her. "Thank you. I cannot tell you how much that means to me."

They stood in silence for another long, awkward moment. Mary was wringing her hands. "Where are you staying while in the city?"

Matthew cleared his throat, and nervously straightened the knot of his necktie. "I'm staying at the Regimental Officer's Club, two blocks over. I'm still permitted to stay there."

"Ah,yes of course," she said, "How nice."

He thought he had an opening to mention dinner so decided to give a try. "They have a lovely dining room. Perhaps we might have dinner? That is, if you are free this evening?"

Mary remained aloof. "I'm sorry, but I have plans this evening." She didn't, but she wasn't ready to have dinner with him yet, either.

Matthew's expression fell. "I see. Yes, I understand." He sighed, putting his hat on, smoothing the brim back out and adjusting it an angle on his head. "Well then, perhaps another time." He started for the door.

Mary turned in his direction and suddenly spoke up. "But, tomorrow night…"

He stopped and turned to face her. "Yes?"

She softened her eyes. "….I am free tomorrow evening, if it would still be convenient with your plans to have dinner together?"

For the first time, Matthew's face brightened. "Yes! Of course, tomorrow, evening would be just fine. May I send a car for you at eight o'clock?"

She nodded. "Yes, of course, I'll look forward to it. Thank you."

The first sign of a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. He nodded appreciatively, and then left.

When he was gone, Mary walked to the window and stood behind the drapes. She watched as Matthew walked down the stairs of the front stoop and then as he stopped and turned to look back up at the house. His face looked hopeful and pleasant. She leaned against the wall, feeling a flicker of hope return to her heart as well.


	8. Chapter 8

Matthew stood in front of the entrance to the Regimental Officer's Club. He was wearing black tie and a black dinner jacket. He glanced at his watch for the fifth time and then touched a hand to his collar to make sure his tie was straight.

His attention was suddenly drawn to the black Bentley he had arranged to collect Mary, as it slowly came to a stop on the curb directly in front of him. He reached down and opened the door and extended his hand to help her from the car. When she stepped from the car, she took his breath away. She looked resplendent in a silver ankle length beaded evening dress, a chemise style with thin shoulder straps, which showed off her lovely long arms and neckline. She wore diamond drop earrings that sparkled just above her jaw. And Matthew had to look twice when he realized she was wearing red lipstick—it was the first time he had ever seen her wear it.

"Mary…you look positively...," he spoke slightly bashfully, his eyes travelling down to admire the dress and then back up to her eyes and red lips again, "…devastatingly beautiful."

Inwardly, she smiled as those were the very words she wanted to hear. She tried not to blush at his overt compliment, but couldn't help herself. "Thank you." She smiled at him, feeling as though they were on a first date.

She took his arm, following him in to the charming old club and up in to the expansive formal dining room, filled with tables covered in white linen and a sparkling chandelier hung in the center of the room. The walls were adorned with coats of arms for all the various military regiments and units, as well as assorted sabers and regimental standards.

They crossed the room to a quiet corner, where a square table was set with china, stemware, two flickering candle sticks and a small floral centerpiece of red roses. Matthew held a chair out for her as Mary sat down, and then took a seat across from her. "I'll have to be careful about leaving you alone this evening. This club is filled with bachelor officers and they will all surely line up the minute I'm not around."

Mary chuckled and felt flattered as they settled in at the table, both completely comfortable in the gracious surroundings. Matthew started to say something, "Mary, I'd like to talk with you about…." and just then an older distinguished gentleman in a military mess kit and scarlet jacket, with gold braid around the cuffs, walked up to the table.

Matthew immediately stood up. "General Holland, what a wonderful surprise, sir."

"Nice to see you Crawley, it's been some time, hasn't it?" The general reached out to shake Matthew's hand warmly. "Nice to see you up and about, my dear chap!"

"Thank you, sir." Matthew was standing formally and gestured toward Mary. "General Holland, may I present…" He paused, electing not to use the word fiancée just to be on the safe side. "…Lady Mary Crawley."

General Holland immediately smiled at Mary and bent at the waist to greet her. "Ah, yes Earl and Countess Grantham's eldest daughter. I know Robert well, good man!" His voice was kind and earnest.

Mary stood, shaking his hand. "Thank you, General Holland. Matthew has spoken of you often. What a pleasure to meet you"

"I say," the General said, "Unless I'm mistaken, I believe I read your announcement in the Times a few months back, about an engagement. A May wedding, if I remember correctly?"

Matthew was taken off guard. Mary watched his face as he struggled with the appropriate reply. She decided to help. "Yes, that's right, General," she said enthusiastically, "but we adjusted the date to June, as Matthew has a few final appointments with his physician, which my mother and I neglected to consider when we first announced the wedding date. It is now planned for June."

Matthew looked at her appreciatively out the corner of his eye.

"Ah, yes, how is the back Crawley?" The General was sincere.

"Much, much better, sir, thank you for asking."

"I'm so very glad to hear it; very glad indeed." The elder officer patted Matthew on the shoulder. "You gave us all quite a fright when you were first injured at the front."

As they spoke, Mary noticed a young tall, stunning looking blond woman in a black satin evening gown with ample cleavage, crossing the room, toward their table.

"Ah," the General said, proudly, extending an arm out to the approaching woman. "Crawley, you remember my daughter, Caroline?"

Matthew politely nodded, "Yes, of course."

Caroline Holland spoke in a delicate, alluring voice, "Good evening father." She kissed the General on the cheek, and then turned to Matthew. "And, yes, Captain Crawley and I are old acquaintances from when I was a school girl. I met him at one of the regiment's afternoon teas. Of course, I'm not a school girl any more now, am I Captain?" She looked at Matthew intensely, holding the hand he had extended to her longer than was necessary.

Matthew cleared his throat, and gestured toward Mary. "May I present Lady…?"

Mary cut him off, extending her hand. "I'm Captain Crawley's fiancée, Mary Crawley."

Caroline shook her hand, and a puzzled look crossed her face. "I think I read your name in the papers recently."

Mary stood rod straight, her hands now clasped in front. "Really? My wedding announcement perhaps?"

Caroline pondered the question and slowly shook her head. "No, I think it was something else…" Her voice sounded suspicious.

General Holland interrupted, "Well, then, that's quite enough Caroline. We've taken up far too much of Captain Crawley's and Lady Mary's evening." He shook Matthew's hand again. "So very glad to see you my dear chap." He then turned to Mary. "Please accept my very best to you both." The General took his daughter by the elbow, leading her off to a table clear across the room.

Mary looked at Matthew teasingly out of the corner of her eye. "What was it you were saying about bachelors lining up for me?" She huffed as she took her seat again, while Matthew held the back of her chair. "In case you hadn't noticed, that woman was throwing herself at you." She re-arranged her white napkin in her lap.

He smiled, taking his seat again. "I hardly think so."

Mary laughed. "Alright, if you say so. Now then, what were you trying to say a moment ago?"

"Yes, well, I'd like to talk with you about something." He reached in to his jacket breast pocket. Mary's heart fluttered at the thought he might pull out the black velvet ring box she had left behind. Instead, he pulled out a white envelope, and held it out to her.

She was taken by surprise. "What's this?" She opened it, and scanned over what were apparently legal documents, not sure what it all meant. She suddenly felt her heart sink. "Are you ending something?"

He reached out and rested his hand on top of hers reassuringly. "Quite the contrary."

Mary glanced over the forms. She saw references to Downton Abbey, various bank accounts, as well as art work, jewelry and real estate property. "What is this?"

He looked at her warmly. "It's a deed."

Mary was still perplexed. "You'll have to forgive me, but I don't think I understand?"

Mathew spoke quietly and in a kind tone. "Well, estate laws are changing. And what that document means is that when Robert passes the estate to me, the only aspect of it that I will legally retain will be the title as Earl. Everything else will be yours, and Edith's and Sybil's, just as it should be."

Mary looked at him completely dumb founded, her mouth slightly agape.

A smile began to form around Matthew's lips as he watched her, realizing he had not seen her speechless before.

She looked back down at the forms and then back up at him. "Am I to understand that this document means that you inherit only the title of Earl?"

"No, I actually still inherit everything; but what that document means is that once I inherit it, I am having it all transferred to your name. Downton Abbey, the estate grounds, all related real estate and all of Robert's and Cora's personal possessions. There is also a provision for Edith and Sybil; they will still inherit the money and possessions that Robert and Cora wanted for them. And as the male heir, I will hold the title of Earl Grantham." He looked at her intently to ensure she understood and squeezed her hand affectionately. "You are the rightful recipient, Mary. You always have been, and it was always my intention to find a way to ensure that."

She still looked slightly confused, but also crest fallen. "But what I have is yours."

He squeezed her hand again. "And I feel the very same way. I make a living as a lawyer, and have an officer's pension, and whatever my family will leave me. All of which will belong to you as it does to me. But Robert and Cora's estate—Downton Abbey—is a gentry estate and it should be yours, and your sisters."

Mary was suddenly perplexed. "I thought Downton was your family, too? I thought it would be ours?"

He got up from the table and crossed around, kneeling down beside her, taking her hands in his, careful to avoid a misunderstanding. "Yes, it is, of course it is!" He rubbed her hands. "But as a man, I don't want there to be a single reason for anyone to believe that we married each other—that I married you—for any reason other than love."

Mary looked in to his glittering blue eyes, filled with sincerity. She squeezed his hand back. "There was never any thought in my mind to the contrary."

"Nor mine. But rightfully, Robert's descendants should inherit this. Just as your children should."

Her brown eyes were soft and compassionate. "And what if I want to share it with my husband legally?"

He smiled up at her, tilting his head to look at her. "Well then, as the rightful Downton heiress, it will be yours to do with as you see fit. But that will be your choice."

She folded the papers up and inserted them back in to the envelope, handing it back to him. "I wouldn't know the first thing about managing all of that by myself anyway."

Matthew chuckled, tucking the envelope back in to his jacket.

* * *

They enjoyed the rest of their evening over dinner, followed by brandy in the bar. Matthew accompanied her back to Aunt Rosamund's, sitting next to her in the back of the chauffeured Bentley.

He was sitting close to her and bent down to her ear, whispering in to it. "I hope you don't mind my saying so, but whatever that perfume is you are wearing, it's quite seductive."

Mary glanced at him sideways, grinning back at him. "Thank you. It's by a new designer in Paris. It's called Chanel Number Five."

He nodded appreciatively and smiled. "It's very captivating."

Mary fidgeted with her purse in her lap. "When are you returning to Downton?" She thought she sounded forward, but felt compelled to know.

"Oh, well, I don't know. I supposed around ten o'clock tomorrow morning, I should think."

"Tomorrow?" Mary seemed surprised and contemplated his leaving as the car pulled to a stop in front of the townhouse. Matthew stepped out first, holding his hand out to her help her. Mary joined him on the curb, and he leaned in towards the driver. "I'll just be a moment, please."

"Yes, sir…" the drive replied proficiently.

They walked up the steps, stopping in front of the door. Mary paused. "Well, here we are."

Matthew slid his hands in to his pants pockets. "Yes. Here we are." He felt a kiss would appear presumptuous, so he held his hand out to her instead. "Thank you so very much, Mary, for joining me for dinner."

Mary took his hand. "Thank you. It was lovely."

He bent down and brushed a kiss to the top of her hand. He smiled at her and then stepped back down the stairs toward the waiting car.

He was leaving and Mary couldn't let him go. There were still things to settle between them. She had to do something. "Matthew!"

He stopped. "Yes?" He took two steps back up toward her, as she took two steps down, meeting him half way.

"I was just thinking that I have been here a little over two weeks, far too long really, so I thought that, perhaps I could join you on your drive home?"

A smile grew across his face. "Yes, of course! I'd like that very much. What time should I motor round to pick you up?"

Mary smiled, thinking he could pick her up as early as seven, but it seemed too available. "You said you are planning to leave at ten o'clock, and that time would be perfectly fine for me as well."

"Well then, I'll be here at ten sharp! Perhaps we can make a day of it and stop for luncheon?"

Mary smiled with excitment. "I'll ask Clara to pack a picnic lunch for us."

Matthew reached to shake her hand again, and this time Mary leaned forward and placed a peck on his cheek.

Returning to the Officer's Club, Matthew went up to his room. Slipping off his dinner jacket, he walked in to the bathroom, loosening his bow tie. He could still smell Mary's perfume on his clothes. He closed his eyes, thinking of her, and murmured to himself outloud, "Chanel Number Five." As he stepped in front of he bathroom mirror, he looked at his reflection and saw a touch of red lipstick on his cheek where she had kissed him, making him tingle inside.


	9. Chapter 9

The King's Highway was a two lane motorway, connecting London to various northern county areas, including Yorkshire. Matthew and Mary sat in the front seat of the brown roadster sedan, with the top of the car turned down and the wind whipping at their hair.

"How fast are we going?" Mary spoke above the sound of the motor and the wind, holding a hand to her hair in an attempt to keep it in place.

Matthew glanced at the speedometer. "Forty five miles per hour. Not much faster than old Diamond at top speed." He smiled over at her.

She laughed, turning her attention to the scenery all around them, including Matthew. She glanced back at him. He was dressed in a light tan car coat, with a brown necktie, his hair flying around his head from the breeze, and the sun on his face. She noticed that the shaving nicks had dissapeared and he no longer had dark circles under his lovely blue eyes. "Beautiful countryside, isn't it?"

He nodded eagerly in agreement. "Maybe the perfect spot for lunch." He glanced at his wrist watch. "It's almost noon. Would you like to pull off the road and find a spot to eat?"

"Sounds marvelous!" Mary had the picnic basket Clara had packed for them nestled next to her feet.

Matthew took the next exit, turning the car to the right, and down a narrow road, where he had happened to notice a cluster of shady trees on a small hill overlooking a meadow of sheep and a stream. He pulled the car up the hill and rolled the car to a stop and cut the engine.

Mary spread a bright yellow gingham tablecloth out over the grass, and knelt down and began unpacking their luncheon. "This the perfect place for a picnic!"

Matthew shrugged his coat off and ran his hands through his hair, then loosened his necktie. "Please tell me there is cold lemonade in that basket."

Mary peered in to the basket, rummaging around with a hand, and then dramatically lifted up a jar of light yellow chilled lemonade, smiling at Matthew.

"Ah! Clara is an angel!" He sat down on the tablecloth, stretching his legs out. "I'm parched."

Mary poured a splash of lemonade in to a glass and handed it to him; then she unpacked sandwiches, a salad, and fruit, which she organized on to plates for them. As they ate, the baaing of sheep could be heard in the distance from the herd grazing in the field. "Such a beautiful day," she said, biting in to her sandwich.

Matthew watched her, nodding in agreement, taking another sip of his cool drink. "Yes, it is."

She looked over at him. "Incidentally, I wanted to tell you that I've given your apology extensive consideration."

He stopped chewing and swallowed. "Oh?"

"Yes." She took a sip of lemonade. "It was a very lovely apology, Matthew."

"Thank you. I meant every word of it."

She smiled. "I know you did." She took another bite if her sandwich and chewed daintily. "And I am prepared to accept it on one condition." She held up a finger to emphasize her point.

"Anything—name it." He said, responding instantly.

Mary looked at him and took a breath, speaking softly. "I will accept your apology, if you will accept mine in return for reading the diary."

His face was kind, and he dipped his head, regarding her. "Yes, but you had every right to read that..."

"No, no!" She waved her hand disregarding his comment. "You must accept my apology as a condition of our apology arrangement."

He sighed. "Yes, of course. Apology accepted."

"Good," she pronounced taking a bite of a strawberry. "And one more thing."

"What's that?"

She let out a breath. "I forgive you."

He blinked at her, breathing a sigh. "Thank you…" He rubbed her arm gently.

Mary reached a hand over toward him, and brushed a lock of blond hair from his forehead. He turned his head and kissed her wrist, making her smile.

They finished eating their lunch, lounging in the shade for several moments, and then packed up the remains of the picnic. Matthew folded the table cloth and put it in the backseat of the car along with the lunch basket. He looked back over at Mary, who was still standing by the tree. "Mary?"

She began walking toward the car and suddenly paused, putting a hand to her head, appearing to be unsteady.

"Mary? Is everything alright?" He ran quickly over to her, but wasn't able to reach her in time to catch her as she tumbled to the ground.

* * *

Fairbury was a small town situated on the Nene River, about twenty minutes from where they had stopped for their picnic. It had a main street with shops, grocers, several restaurants and a small hotel. Mary had fainted, so he placed her in the car and drove as fast as he could to the nearest town. Fortunately, Fairbury was large enough to have a physician, Doctor Banks.

Matthew paced outside of room 32, a large corner room on the third floor of the White Rose Hotel. The hotel room door opened, and Matthew stopped pacing, desperate to know how Mary was. "Doctor, what is it? Is she alright?"

Doctor Banks was an older gentleman, with white hair and a kind demeanor. "Yes, yes" he patted Matthew's elbow reassuringly. "She's awake, just a little tired."

"What on Earth happened?"

"Well, she said she hasn't been eating right the last few weeks, so that could have caused it, especially in the warmer weather. Or, it could have been something in the picnic lunch that didn't quite agree with her. But I don't think it is anything more serious than that."

"Thank goodness for that." Matthew was concentrating on every word Banks was saying.

"Is the young lady your wife?"

Matthew studied the doctor's expression closely and decided he should answer the question affirmatively. "Yes, she is. Why do you ask?"

"Well, because another possible cause might be that she is expecting."

Matthew kept looking at the doctor, resting his hands on his hips. "Expecting what?"

Banks pulled his suit jacket off a chair against the wall and shrugged it on his shoulders. "You said you are her husband, are you not?"

Matthew nodded, "Yes."

"Well, I mean that she might be," he lowered his voice, "with child." He looked at Matthew, waiting for a sign that he understood. "It is possible, isn't it? I mean, a young couple like yourselves?"

Matthew blinked, trying not to look confused. "Well, uh, _technically_…"

The doctor laughed. "What do you mean, _technically_? Have you had marital relations at any time in the previous month or so?"

Matthew stuttered. "Um, well, I suppose…"

"You suppose?"

"Yes, well, you see, my wife and I are, well, we were only recently married and we haven't actually been together very often…"

Banks laughed again. "Well, one time is all it takes my lad…" He snapped his black medical bag closed. "But, just to be sure, I took a small sample of blood so we can confirm one way or the other. So I suggest that you remain over night, have a nice dinner at the hotel and a good night's rest and I'll have the test result by first thing tomorrow morning."

Matthew rubbed his hand over his chin. "Is there anything special I should do in the meanwhile?"

"Oh, she'll be fine. She just needs a little rest, and some dinner this evening, and a good night's sleep. I'll check in on her tomorrow morning." Banks shook Matthew's hand and made his way down the stair case.

Matthew was now alone in the hallway and paused, thinking. He drew a deep breath. Then he tapped lightly on the door, and waited from Mary's voice.

"Yes?"

He gently opened the door just an inch. "Mary? May I come in?"

"Yes, of course."

He poked his head around the edge of the door first to ensure it would be alright to enter the room. He saw her sitting up in bed, leaning back against pillows piled against the head board, the mid-day sun filtering through the curtains. He stepped in to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. "Everything alright? You gave me a bit of a scare."

She nodded. "I'm so sorry for all of this, Matthew."

He wrinkled his brows. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm terribly sorry you're unwell, but I'm glad I was there to help." He pulled a desk chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. "Doctor Banks seems very nice."

Mary smiled. "Yes, he is and he seems quite thorough for a country doctor." Her fingers picked at the bed spread. She spoke hesitantly. "Did he talk with you about anything?"

Matthew pressed his lips together. "Yes, yes…he did." He rubbed his hands together. "He said he took a blood sample."

Mary's fingers stopped fiddling with the bed spread and she looked at him from under her eye lashes. Her expression changed to one of concern and a hand reached up to cover her mouth. "Oh, Matthew, what if…?" She began to cry.

He moved from the chair to the bed and sat down, facing her. "Mary, everything will be alright. I'm sure of it." His voice was tender and soothing, and one of his hands brushed several strands of hair away from her eyes.

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and he hugged her to him. She sniffled against his neck "What if…what if?"

"Shhhhh. Let's not jump to any conclusions just yet." He pulled her as close as he could, feeling her heart beating rapidly against him as he rubbed his hands over her back. "Oh, Mary, my darling…" he said sweetly and kissed her neck and jaw and ear, comforting her. It felt as though it had been ages since he had held her and kissed her. He moved and stretched out on to the bed, lying down beside her. Mary tucked herself in to him and he wrapped his arms around her, soothing her until she drifted off to sleep.

.


	10. Chapter 10

The dining room at the hotel was a combination of country charm and old English inn. The furniture was tastefully antique and the fabrics were subdued floral chintz in spring colors. Each table was appointed with a print tablecloth, a few fresh flowers and two flickering candlesticks.

Mary and Matthew sat quietly enjoying their dinners. Mary chewed contentedly on the last bite of her shepherd's pie, humming softly as she relished the wonderful comforting casserole. She glanced at Matthew and saw that he was staring at her, fork in hand, with an amused grin. She stopped in mid-chew, glanced down at her now empty plate, and held a hand up to her mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry—I've probably eaten quite a bit, haven't I? Not very lady like of me, I'm afraid."

His smile was sweet and understanding. "Don't be silly." He reached over and rubbed a hand over her arm. "I'm glad to see your appetite has returned." He took a sip of wine, his eyes gazing down in to the burgundy red liquid.

They went back to sitting quietly, preoccupied with their own thoughts and the doctor's words…"_She might be with child._" Finally Matthew broke the silence, leaning over to Mary and whispering, "I know it's too soon…but would it really be so terrible? A baby, that is?" His expression was filled with uncertainty and affection.

Mary's face softened, and she slid her hand in to his and squeezed, keeping her voice low. "Oh, Matthew…" Her voice cracked a little, so touched by his sentiment and the love in his eyes. "That could _never_ be terrible. It would be wonderful!" She was leaning toward him, her face only inches from his.

He cocked his head, confused. "Then why were you crying earlier?" His hand was still rubbing her arm.

"Oh," she started, sighing in a whisper, rearranging her napkin in her lap. "Well, since we moved the wedding date, things will be further along, so to speak." She paused and exhaled, thinking. "What if my figure changes and people notice?"

He smiled, his hand reaching up to caress her cheek. "I hardly think anyone would notice so soon."

Mary was skeptical. "You don't know my mother. She is part blood hound."

He chuckled, remembering how Cora had sensed Mary and Matthew's connection while he was recovering from his war injuries. "True."

Mary's meandering thoughts continued. "And what about having a child a mere seven months after the ceremony?"

Matthew thought for a moment and shrugged. "Premature births have been known to happen. It's not unheard of." He spoke matter-of-factly, being the son of a doctor he knew these things did occur.

Mary listened sincerely, considering his rationale. Then she frowned. "I'll be fat on our honeymoon. My trousseau will be too tight, or might not fit at all!"

He chuckled again and leaned closer to her, his arm around the back of her chair. He brushed his nose against her cheek, his voice deep and tender. "Expectant ladies aren't fat." He kissed her jaw and whispered in to her hear. "You will be so incredibly beautiful."

Mary's heart fluttered and she laughed softly, looking over her shoulder self consciously. "Matthew!" She glanced around the room checking to see if anyone was noticing them. "There are other people around us!" She blushed at his loving words and the feel of his warm breath against her cheek.

"And none of them knows, in the slightest, who we are." He kissed her cheek and leaned back in his own chair. He took another sip of wine and Mary straightened her blouse, smoothing it with her hands, giving him a sideways smile.

* * *

They returned to their room, and Matthew looked around and assessed the sleeping arrangements. "I should take the sofa and you should sleep in the bed." He waved his hand over the bed to make his point.

Mary looked at him perplexed. "Why are you sleeping on the sofa?"

His expression turned to one of surprise, his voice a loud whisper. "Mary, may I remind you that we are _pretending_ to be man and wife?"

She let out a breath. "Oh, honestly Matthew, isn't that all a bit after the fact considering I could very well be carrying our child?"

He tilted his head, looking at her admiringly. "Yes, I know, but we can still try to have some _semblance_ of decorum."

Mary smiled and began digging through her luggage for her nightgown.

Matthew went down the hall to the bathroom to change in to his pajamas and dressing gown, giving Mary time to change in to her night clothes. When he returned, he found her in her white nightgown and robe, sitting on the side of the bed, brushing her hair. "Can I help?"

She smiled, paused, and held the brush out to him. "I'd like that. Thank you."

He sat down beside her, smoothed a hand over her hair and began pulling the brush down in long strokes. "What do you think of the name William?" He asked, not stopping his brushing stride.

Mary looked at him over her shoulder, a tender smile on her lips. "I like that name very much."

"What names for a boy do you like?"

"Well," she thought, "I've always liked my father's name."

"I do, too, actually." He was moving the brush over her head and then through the long hair cascading down her back. He paused. "William Robert, perhaps?"

Mary smiled and leaned back toward him. "Yes, I like that name very much. But what if it's a girl?"

Matthew stopped and thought. "Hmmmmm…well, I always liked a name from a story by George Bernard Shaw: Jennifer."

Mary turned. "Oh, I do like that! I don't think I've ever heard it before."

"It's from a play, The Doctor's Dilemma. It is derived from the Welsh name, Guinevere."

Mary smiled in delight. "Oh, you mean like in Arthurian legend?"

His hand gently smoothed over her head again. "Precisely."

Mary turned forward again so he could continue brushing. "Yes, Jennifer is a lovely name. Quite modern but elegant. And what about a middle name?"

Matthew stopped and thought again, his brow raised. He chuckled to himself. "I honestly don't know. I suppose I hadn't thought about it. "

Mary turned around to face him. "If I mention something, will you promise not to be upset?"

"Yes, of course." He meant it.

Her tone was soft and gentle. "When we quarreled about Lavinia's diary, you never asked me what I thought of it." She tilted her head, waiting for him to reply.

He knew she was right. He had flown off the handle, but had never asked her what she had thought about the diary. His anger had all been founded in all his own embarrassment and he had never asked her about her impressions. He suddenly felt foolish. "You're right. I never did ask." He sat still, the brush now in his lap. "What did you think?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know, yet he was immensely curious.

Mary's lips curved in to a smile and she took one of his hands in hers. "Lavinia was a lovely and kind hearted woman who genuinely loved you. I know some of what she wrote was intensely private, but all in all it is a treasured memoire of what the two of you had together, and of the wartime romance you shared with her. It was a special time for both of you."

He bowed his head slightly. It had never occurred to him that Mary might have actually thought the diary to be something worth keeping. "You're right, of course."

"Lavinia never did anything to hurt another person in her whole life, and she and her father were both taken so soon…far too early." She tightened her hand around his. "And for those reasons, I was thinking that it might make a lovely middle name for our daughter."

He looked at her, not understanding at first, and then his expression revealed that her suggestion had registered. He was astonished. "You mean the name Lavinia?"

Mary smiled and nodded. "Yes, I do."

He thought about it for a moment, and then breathed it out loud, making it real. "Jennifer Lavinia Crawley." He sighed and then a smile began to appear at the corners of his mouth. "Well, we'll have much to discuss after Doctor Banks returns tomorrow with the test results, won't we?"

Mary nodded, realizing that he was done brushing her hair, so she braided it and picked the ribbon up off the nightstand and began tying a bow around the end. "William and Jennifer. Yes, I like those names very much, indeed!"

Matthew smiled back at her as he arranged a sheet on the sofa and then a blanket. "Me, too."

Mary peered over at his makeshift bed. "No good night kiss?"

Matthew looked at her suspiciously. "Alright, but _just a kiss_."

"For goodness sake, Matthew, what type of woman do you take me for?"

"It isn't _you_ that I'm worried about." He crossed the room to where she was standing, and bent his head, his lips touching her cheek in a chaste kiss. As he stood up, Mary reached out and caught the lapel of his robe, pulling him closer. He smiled at her as she leaned up on her tip-toes to kiss him. As her lips brushed against his, his hands rested on her waist. Her body felt soft and warm, and her lips were moist and tender. He sighed and angled his head to kiss her more completely, the tip of his tongue grazing her lower lip, tasting her. Then he caught himself and chuckled. "You are a vixen, Mary Crawley."

"What?" She gave him her best innocent expression.

"You know very well, what…now off to bed with you." He smiled back at her as he returned to his sofa bed, sitting down and stretching out his long legs.

Mary clicked the lamp off on the nightstand and burrowed under the covers. Her eyes glanced out the windows noticing the clouds against the moonlight and the wind. "Looks like a storm."

Her voice was just a whisper, but he heard her. "I'm sure it will be alright, but if something disturbs you be sure to come and get me." His voice was already half asleep.

Mary smiled to herself, thinking about getting Matthew in the middle of the night. "Good night, Matthew."

"Good night, my darling."


	11. Chapter 11

The sun shined off the car and the wind whipped through the convertible, tousling Matthew's hair. He flexed his fingers, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and adjusted his legs and sitting position. He glanced over at Mary. She appeared to be lost in thought, watching the scenery go by, her hand reaching up occasionally to tame flyaway strands of hair in the breeze.

He leaned toward her slightly. "You're awfully quiet over there." The timber of his voice was light and teasing.

Mary looked over at him, her fingers chasing another flyaway lock. "Just thinking and enjoying the lovely view." She gave him a full smile.

He tried to read her, but was having difficulty determining if she was happy or more concerned at Doctor Banks' news. Her expression gave nothing away, as had been the case since the moment he had met her all those years before. He decided to press his luck. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, you know me…this and that. It's such a lovely day."

He nodded perfunctorily in response, pressing hips lips together. Her answer was vintage Mary. He knew her well enough to know that her reply was her way of saying, 'I'd rather not talk about what I'm thinking thank you very much'. He thought of it as Mary Code.

Mary turned back to looking off at the countryside whizzing by, thinking back on Doctor Banks' visit to the hotel early that morning. He had arrived promptly at eight o'clock, greeting her and Matthew cheerily in the dining room.

"Good morning, my young newlyweds!" The doctor had said, shaking hands with Matthew. "And how is my lovely patient this morning? Feeling better?"

Mary smiled. She liked the country doctor. "Yes, much better, thank you, Doctor Banks."

Banks pulled a chair out and joined them. "Now then," he lowered his voice. "As you know, I performed a simple blood test to verify whether or not you might be expecting."

Matthew leaned forward in his chair, but let Mary handle all the talking regarding this delicate topic.

Mary tilted her head down, whispering to the doctor. "And?"

The doctor was professional and composed, keeping his voice quiet. "Well, I can report to you that the rabbit is alive and kicking."

Both Mary and Matthew continued looking at Doctor Banks, blinking as they comprehended his reference.

"Oh, I see," Matthew said softly. Growing up with a father who was a surgeon and a mother who was a charge nurse, he knew full well what Banks was saying.

Mary still looked confused. "I'm sorry, I don't think I understand?"

Matthew looked at her, holding her eyes with his. "What Doctor Banks is referring to is a maternity test performed on a female rabbit to verify if a certain hormone is present indicating that the woman is with child. If the rabbit's physiology changes in a certain way, observed through a surgical observation, it means the test result is positive; if the rabbit shows no signs of physiological changes, it means the test result is negative, and the rabbit lives another day."

Mary regarded him and realized what this meant. "Oh, I see." She looked at Doctor Banks. "And my rabbit reported a negative result, is that correct?"

Banks nodded. "Yes, exactly. I don't know if that's the report you were hoping for or not. But I shouldn't be discouraged, a young couple like you. There is still plenty of time for a lady of your age."

_A lady of her age…_Mary sighed. Now, sitting in the car with Matthew, she didn't know what to feel about the doctor's report. Relieved? Not exactly. In fact, she felt sad. She wondered what Matthew thought.

She suddenly became aware that the car was turning off the road, and down a country lane. Matthew drove it a ways, then pulled off to a grassy spot where they rolled to a stop. He cut the engine.

He turned to Mary, his arm going along the back of the seat, behind her. "Now then," he started, "Is everything alright?" His hand gently rested on her back. "Please tell me."

Mary's lips curved up in a smile. "Yes, I think so. I was just thinking."

"About what Doctor Banks shared this morning?"

She nodded. "I know it sounds silly, especially after I had voiced some of my initial apprehension. But I suppose I quickly fell in love with the notion of it, the thought that I might be…well, you know. I feel like I had a treasure, and then lost it."

He understood, because he had felt the same way. At first the notion made him nervous, but he had quickly embraced it. He had liked planning for their child and dreaming of it. "Yes, I think I know what you mean."

She turned to face him. "When we're closer to the wedding date, Matthew, let's try again. Let's not waste any time!"

He laughed. "I hadn't realized we were trying for something in the first place." His eyes were soft and kind.

"Truthfully, I'm not getting any younger, and neither are you."

"Thank you, darling, you're cheering me up to no end."

'I'm not joking, Matthew. In four weeks the wedding will only be a week away. It's perfect timing!"

"You make our personal life sound like a military invasion." He looked at her lips and bent his head, touching his mouth to hers gently.

She chuckled against his kiss. She leaned her forehead against his. "I got used to the thought of William or Jennifer inside of me."

He nodded his head against hers, then pulled back and looked at her. Her large brown eyes were glistening and filled with hope. "Yes, four weeks, then. It's a date."


	12. Chapter 12

Downton Abbey - Three Weeks Later

Matthew sat at the large formal dining table pretending to be interested in his entrée. The truth was he couldn't take his eyes off of Mary who sat next to him. After each bite of halibut, or sip of white Bordeaux, he found himself glancing over at her, or touching his hand to her elbow. They periodically shared a whispered remark and private laugh. And now he sat with her hand secretly slipped in to his underneath the table, their clasped hands resting on his thigh, hidden behind the table cloth.

Robert had been observing them all night. He hadn't forgotten the feel of young lust in his own heart. He looked over at Cora who was engrossed in conversation with Violet and Isobel, no doubt about some last minute wedding detail. He admired how pretty she still was, the beauty of her younger self still evident in her eyes and smile, and her figure. It brought a smile to his face and made him suddenly want to be alone with her. He glanced down at his watch and noticed the hour had grown late. "Well," he announced, dabbing his napkin at his lips, "I didn't realize how late it is. I think I'll withdraw for the evening."

Cora looked up in surprise. "Robert? Don't you and Matthew want an after dinner brandy?"

Robert looked at Matthew, smiled, and then back at Cora. "Oh, I think our bridegroom would prefer to spend the rest of the evening with his bride-to-be."

Mary smiled at her father. She loved him dearly, especially at times when he seemed telepathic. But she didn't want to appear obvious. "Are you sure? I know how much you and Matthew enjoy catching up from the week."

Matthew squeezed her hand underneath the table, a plea in hopes she would permit Robert to retire so the two of them could be alone. Mary had been right; he did look forward to spending time alone with Robert. But during the past three weeks, as the wedding plans seemed to engulf everything, Matthew hadn't spent any time alone with Mary and he longed for some private time with her.

Robert appreciated their encouragement. "No doubt there will be plenty of time for Matthew and me to commiserate soon enough. It's been a busy few weeks since the two of you mended your fences after coming back from London. And the wedding and your doting family have monopolized every minute of your days."

As Robert walked around the table, Matthew stood and held his hand out, clasping the Earl's hand tightly. "I hadn't realized the hour had grown so late either, Cousin Robert. I look forward to our next opportunity to have more time."

Robert shook Matthew's hand in return, his other hand patting his future son in law's shoulder endearingly. "It's been a busy time for all of us, you in particular maintaining full hours at your law partnership, and still making time for all of this wedding madness." The two men chuckled. "You and Mary should have some time alone."

Matthew was relieved and ecstatic that he and Mary had worked through their misunderstanding; and he was equally grateful that Robert had understood and had patiently supported the outcome. Glancing down, he realized he and Robert were still shaking hands, connected by their affection. "I can't tell you how much your support means to me, Robert. Perhaps we might find time tomorrow for a cocktail?"

"Indeed. I look forward to it, my boy."

* * *

"I'm so glad your pa-pa saw it in his heart to put up with us these past weeks. I shall always remember his graciousness." Matthew was speaking as he held a crystal decanter, pouring brandy in to two snifters. The library windows were open to allow a cross breeze to fill the room with summer air, scented by the lilacs bushes outside the window.

"Hardly a surprise, considering that he loves you like a son," Mary said shutting the door to the library behind her. She walked across the room and stood beside him in front of the credenza, her hands folded behind her back.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "I don't know about that."

"Oh, nonsense, Matthew, you are the son he never had. And I am delighted for it." Her smile conveyed her sincerity and her hand rubbed his back.

He handed her one of the brandy snifters. As Mary took a sip, she couldn't help but notice how handsome Matthew looked. He was wearing a white dinner jacket with his black tie, one of the newest fashion trends for gentlemen in warmer months. Letting the brandy slide down her throat, she reflected on how long it had been since they had been alone together, or intimate. As she was trying to remember the last time he kissed her, she suddenly became aware that he was leaning toward her and grazing his lips across hers. Mary giggled and sighed in to his mouth.

Matthew spoke as his mouth tasted her, whispering in a deep suggestive tone. "I've wanted to do that all evening." He brushed his nose against hers. "I've missed you, Mary."

She looked up in to his eyes where she could see the reflection of his feelings in their glistening sky blue depths. "I have missed you, too, dear Matthew," she whispered not because it was a secret but because she was so touched by his affection.

He leaned in to her and Mary felt her whole body tingle as he kissed her again, and began to trail soft moist kisses over her cheek and to her ear. Her head fell back and she lost her balance, causing her to lean back against the credenza.

Matthew's hands held her steady at her hips, his body leaning in to her, and his mouth found hers again. His lips were wet with brandy and Mary gently sucked the traces of liquor from them as his tongue slid in to her mouth, swirreling with hers. She parted her lips, and he kissed her deeply, pulling a sigh from both of them. She braced her hands against the edge of the credenza relishing the feel of his mouth and hands tantalizing her body. "Oh Matthew," she spoke uncontrollably, letting the words float from her mouth and in to his.

He drew back slightly and looked at her, his eyes locking with hers. Mary saw the desire burning within them, matching her own arousal that she felt spreading in her core. She slipped her hands in to his, and began stepping toward the far end of the library, tugging him with her.

Matthew followed her, but tilted his head in reservation. "Mary…we can't." His voice was yearning but bashful. "_We shouldn't…_"

His sweet plea only made her want him all the more. "Sshhh," she hushed him. "It's only you and I." She was still walking backwards, their arms stretched out between them, in to the darker end of the library, just off the foyer.

As they entered the far end of the library, the moonlight shone on their faces. Matthew noticed how it glittered in Mary's eyes. He stepped toward her, his arms going around her waist, pressing her up against a mahogany bureau, his mouth covering hers. Mary gasped in pleasure, bending back against the table. He kissed her passionately, his arousal trapped between them, rubbing against her body. He whimpered at the sensation.

The spaghetti straps of Mary's dress slipped down over her shoulders and Matthews fingers reached up to pull them down further, his eyes watching and mesmerized. As the bodice of her dress slid down over the swell of her breasts, Matthew's lips touched to her chin and throat, and then down her chest. "I love you so much, my darling." His lips continued their journey down her chest and he shuddered as he spoke. "God, I've missed touching you like this and feeling you in my arms."

Mary's head fell back, causing her back to arch, and her breasts to push up as the fabric of her bodice slid down revealing her dark brown nipples. "Oh, Matthew, I love you so much." She was panting. Her hands went in to his hair as his head bent down, and he took one of her nipples in to his mouth.

He groaned softy as he sucked her breast, his mouth watered as his tongue swirled around the stiff peak in his mouth. Mary arched up against him even further, her sex creaming with inpatience as she rubbed against his hardness. The pressure against his arousal was overwhelming, causing him to suck harder before pulling away, catching his breath.

Mary tugged at the lapel of his jacket, pulling him up. As his mouth took hers again, Mary's hands reached around his waist and began untying his cummerbund and pulling it free. Matthew's fingers easily pulled at his black tie, letting it hang down as he unbuttoned the collar of his dress shirt. His eyes were still looking deeply in to Mary's.

Her fingers worked the zipper his trousers and she slid her hand inside the front of his pants. As she looked up in to his eyes, she felt his steeled shaft and stroked her hand down over him. She watched and smiled as his eyes slid shut in pleasure.

"_Oh God, Mary_." His head was arched back and his hips were grinding against her as her hand continued to move. Mary's other hand pulled at the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one by one.

Breathing heavily, Matthew lifted Mary up, setting her down on to the bureau. He reached down and took the hem of her skirt in his fingers and slid it up and over her thighs, letting his hands smooth over her warm skin. Mary's feet nudged him closer, between her legs. His shirt hung open and his trousers rested on his hips. His hand reached down between her legs, caressing her tenderly, and pushing the wet silk fabric aside. His fingers could feel how drenched he was.

"Yes!" Her voice pleaded with him. She moved her hand from his pants as he guided himself to her body. He kissed her and nudged her to lie back on top of the bureau, her hands reaching up and grasping the edge of the table behind her head. "Oh, God, Matthew, please…"

"Uuuuuhn, Jesus!" He breathed out as he slid in to her hot tight core. She was dripping wet as he thrust in to her. He could feel her essence coating him, and dribbling down over his sac. His hands pulled her legs around his hips as his body moved in and out of her, opening her up to him. "Oh, Mary, my love…"

Her body jerked from his thrusts, which became deeper and harder, causing her to slide up and down on the bureau as he made love to her. Her eyes rolled back in to her head and she bit her lip. Matthew bent down and licked where her teeth bit her lip, laving her with his tongue. She felt the tight coil of desire inside of her beginning to unravel. "Oh, God it feels so wonderful, Matthew."

He braced himself on his hands, looking down in to her eyes as he pumped in to her, his mouth just above hers. The lock of damp hair on his forehead was falling in to his eyes as he thrust harder and harder. He could barely speak, breathless from their sex and ecstasy. His words came out in sharp breaths as he pumped her. "Do you still want me to make a baby inside of you?"

His gesture was so incredibly sweet and erotic and his beautiful face was just above her. Mary couldn't speak because her release suddenly overtook her, first in her center, and then up through her heart, finding its voice through her mouth. "Oh, God yes! Fill me deep, Matthew, please, yes!"

He carefully placed a hand over her mouth as her orgasm shook her and tore from her loudly. He gritted his teeth trying to delay his own reaction. But watching her, and having waited for so long to be together again, only heightened his inability to hold back. His body began to lose control as his hips jerked erratically, bumping the bureau against the wall with a soft thudding sound. His eyes clenched shut and his mouth opened. He could feel his shaft swelling and hardening to a painful extent, yet it was bliss like he had never felt before.

"Oh, fuck!" Suddenly his hips slammed in to her as he cried out, his cum rushing from his most private place and in to hers. His body continued to jerk uncontrollably as he released more seed in to her depths. Mary felt another orgasm and cried out, her back arching up to meet him, her hands reaching up to grasp him. Her movements caused him to slump down on top of her, gasping for air and breathing deeply.

"Oh, Matthew…" She spoke quietly but breathlessly, as her fingers slipped through his hair.

He murmured something incoherent, waiting for his body to settle down before saying anything in return.

She knew the word he had uttered when he came. She had heard it whispered by other children while growing up, and several books she had snuck as a school girl had contained it. Once while in London, she overheard several drunk sailors snicker it at a bar maid. She had never given it any thought. But when she had heard Matthew use it, as they were making love and he was on the precipice of his orgasm, it had an incredibly arousing effect on her. She couldn't describe it, but she liked it.

Mary thought back to what Lavinia had written, about the abandon she and Matthew had experienced on the floor of Reggie's London townhome. Mary hadn't really understood what Lavinia had been writing about, until just now.

"Oh, Mary…" his voice broke her train of thought in the quiet of the room. He kissed her cheek and pushed himself up on his hands, looking down at her. "I think I might have gotten a little carried away."

She smiled up at him. "Me, too." She reached up with several fingers and slid the hair from his forehead. "I like it when you are carried away, Matthew Crawley."

He chuckled and stood up slowly, groaning as he did, extending his hands to her to help her up. Mary sat up and pulled her dress together, rearranging herself until she was presentable again.

Matthew found his cummerbund on the floor and refastened it around his waist, his shirt buttoned and properly tucked in again. As his hands fiddled to put his hair back in place, Mary tied his black tie in to a perfect bow. He glanced down at her handy work. "You are quite proficient at that. I always struggle with those damned things. I'll have to remember how skilled you are." He smiled broadly at her.

Mary hopped down from the bureau, as Matthew's hands held hers. "Everything alright?" He asked her gently, holding their hands to their sides.

She nodded. "Yes, everything is perfect. Just as it should be."

He leaned forward and kissed her. "I love you." He breathed it in to her and it warmed her all the way to her toes. Mary wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in to her, and he hugged her back in return. "I should go," he whispered. "We've another long day tomorrow."

She nodded against his shoulder. "Just a few more days and we won't have to sleep in separate homes anymore."

"And I'm so glad." He tightened his embrace around her.

She walked him to the door. With one final kiss, he was gone, walking down the long drive, in to the June darkness. She remembered the many times she had almost lost him, but now they would soon be husband and wife, and she thanked God for it. She looked down to notice that her hands subconsciously rested on her abdomen; then she looked back up in time to see Matthew as he disappeared toward Crawley House. Mary's only regret was that she could not yet go home with him.


	13. Chapter 13

Downton Abbey - June 20th, 1920

"Oh, Mary you look simply beautiful!" Sybil stood in Mary's bedroom, admiring her older sister in all her wedding finery. The cream ivory dress was understated. It was a long, form fitting satin gown, with a v-neckline trimmed with seed pearls, and short cap sleeves. Mary wore opera length ivory gloves and a long cream colored veil made of several layers of French silk illusion, secured to her head with a diamond and jeweled hair clip, courtesy of Violet.

Mary smiled. "Well, the new fashions are a little skimpier, but certainly more comfortable in this summer heat!" The two women laughed, which was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Sybil scurried to answer it, commenting to Mary, "I wonder who it could be? Pa-pa won't be up to collect you for another twenty minutes."

Mary sighed, planting her hands firmly on her hips, sarcasm in her voice. "With my luck it will be Matthew calling this whole thing off."

Sybil laughed. "Hardly!" But upon opening the door, she was surprised to see that it was Matthew standing in the hallway.

"Matthew!" Sybil was astonished to see him.

Mary's eyes popped open, and she took several steps toward the door, whispering to Sybil. "It's Matthew?"

Sybil waved a hand at her behind her back, and then quickly pulled the door ajar, speaking to Matthew through the crack. "What are you doing here? You know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!"

Matthew straightened his posture, his hands at his side. "Yes, I know, and I'm sorry for intruding, but might I have a word with Mary?"

Sybil blinked. "Are you mad? The two of you are getting married in an hour, and she's all dressed! You can't possibly see her. Can't it wait until after the ceremony?"

Mary had moved closer toward the door. "It's all right Sybil, let him in."

Sybil looked back at Mary in shock. "You must be joking!"

Mary exhaled in exasperation. "Oh, stop with all the superstitious wedding pish-posh and let the man in! It might be important!"

Sybil reluctantly opened the door and stepped aside, allowing Matthew to step in to the room. She gave her future brother in law a playfully stern look. "This better be good, Matthew! I'll leave you two alone for five minutes and that's all!" She waved a finger at them and then stepped through the doorway, pulling the door behind her, leaving Mary and Matthew alone.

Mary smiled at him and her heart fluttered at how wonderful he looked. He was wearing a charcoal grey morning coat, with a light grey vest, grey striped trousers, a white dress shirt and a silver striped satin ascot. On his lapel he had pinned a small sprig of lily of the valley, snipped, Mary guessed, from the garden at Crawley House.

But he spoke first. "Oh, Mary!" His voice was filled with admiration. "You look…." He was at a loss for words as his eyes travelled over her. "Well you look positively resplendent! You are truly beautiful!" His lips curved up in a smile and his eyes seemed to sparkle as the bright morning sun shone in from the far window.

Mary clasped her hands in front of her, smiling. "Thank you. And I was just about to say the same thing about you!"

Matthew glanced down over his wedding attire and then back up at her. "That's kind of you to say, but I shall pale in comparison to the beautiful bride I'll be standing next to all day…and for the rest of my life."

Mary was still smiling, but her eyes grew concerned. "What was so pressing you needed to meet with me before the wedding?" Her tone was hesitant.

He took a deep breath. "I didn't want to start one minute of our marriage—or life together—without giving you this." He reached in to his breast pocket, pulling out a small blue leather bound book. He extended his hand, holding the book out to her.

Mary's expression was confused. "I don't understand? What is that?"

His eyes were soft and understanding. "Open it and look inside." His smile was mischievous.

Mary reached out and took the book and opened it to the first page.

"What does it say?" He asked, clearly knowing the answer.

She read out loud. "The Diary of Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Crawley." She looked up at him. "What's this all about?"

He dipped his head. "I think we are going to have the most wonderful, amazing and delightful life together, and I got to thinking that it might be nice if we keep a journal together, starting with our wedding day." He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled self assuredly. "And for the record, I did as you suggested regarding Lavinia's diary. Instead of throwing it away, I placed it in my Army foot locker in the attic. I think you're right-it's a keepsake of my memories of the war, and Lavinia was a part of that for both of us. And I don't want to part with any of those memories." He paused and then motioned toward the diary in her hand. "And you'll notice, I took the liberty of making the first entry in to our memoir."

She blinked several times, a funny smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Her fingers toyed with the corners of the pages in the diary, and she looked down to read the first page. She read in silence for several seconds, before her hand suddenly flew up to her mouth in surprise as she gasped. "Matthew! You wrote about…" A blush rose on her cheeks.

He was smiling affectionately at her. "What? You didn't think what happened in the library the other night should be remembered?"

"Well…it's just that…" she looked down at the page again, reading further. "Oh, my heavens!" She shot a look back up at him. "You certainly didn't leave out any details!" She stepped over to her vanity where she'd placed a glass of water, and took a long careful drink.

He moved toward her. "I hope not. And if I forgot anything, we can always add it in."

One of her hands rested on her chest as she took a deep breath. "Matthew, what if someone finds this diary in the house and reads it?"

He shrugged. "What? A loving account of an interlude with the woman I have loved for nearly nine years, who is also my wife? Actually, come to think of it, I'd be delighted if someone read it." He was now standing in front of her, close enough that she could smell his lovely after shave. "Besides, we'll fill it with other more routine memories like luncheons in the park, visits to London, the births of William and Jennifer, and so forth…and in between all that we'll write about our…." He leaned over, whispering at her lips, "_passion_." Then his lips brushed hers.

Mary sighed as their lips tenderly touched. "I love you so much, Matthew." She smiled at him as she touched a finger to his cheek.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud knock at the door and Sybil's voice. "Mary! It's me and pa-pa is on his way from the library!"

Matthew straightened up. "I had better leave." He ran a hand over his coat, smoothing his appearance. He looked back at her as he stepped toward the door "See you at the alter, Mrs. Crawley." Then he winked at her.

Mary's eyes watered. Her heart was so filled with happiness it was literally flowing from within her. "Yes, of course." She held their diary to her heart, already thinking of the lifetime of memories that would fill it.


	14. Chapter 14

Epilogue – the Diary of Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Crawley

July 10, 1920: _We are still enjoying glorious Paris, and our honeymoon. However, I received a surprising communiqué from Dr. Banks, the lovely country doctor who assisted us in Fairbury in May. Much to my surprise, he wrote to inform us that the test report he provided us was incorrect! He writes that in going through his paperwork, he discovered that he had accidentally made a miscalculation. So, still having the blood sample, he performed the test again and it was, indeed, positive! Truth be told, I was not entirely surprised. Although it is still early, I have begun to notice a few things that would lead me to suspect the possibility. In any event, I called for the hotel doctor, who, in fact, has confirmed Dr. Banks' diagnosis! I am thrilled beyond imagine! I will tell Matthew this evening over dinner…and no doubt he will write the next journal entry…to our little one on the way! _

July 11, 1920:_ My precious darling! Last night your mother shared with me for the very first time that you are on the way. I have so very much to tell you…_

_Fin!_


End file.
